The Ashen Ten
by Arklaw
Summary: Times were desperate; a fading Fire, powerful monsters, and strange shifts in the state of the world... To redeem this awful world, a call was answered by a great many Champions. This is the story of ten great warriors and sages, whose powers had been brought low through failure. They have to join forces if only to recover their might, and survive this accursed land.
1. Rise from the Ashes

A distant ringing called, emanated alongside the first rays of sunlight. In an opened grave, ashes began to stir as an armored figure arised slowly like a puppet pulled from its box. The soft light was blinding his barely awakened eyes.

 _"The Flame?"_ he thought, still hazy and pained from the memory of a past ordeal.

A short moment of recovery made him more aware of his surroundings. And no, there was no fire in sight. The radiance was of natural sunlight. It wasn't coming from a reinvigorated First Flame.

The man's thoughts weren't foggy anymore, which was appreciated. HIs situation however, wasn't clear yet. He believed he had been burned alive. Fully dead. Having failed in his attempt to bring the world back into an Age of Fire, the First Flame had consumed his body in retaliation. He perfectly remembered the searing pain of the heat that melted his bones. It had made him faint despite his constitution. But now, he was whole, in a whole other place.

He took a heavy first step out of the stone container, then took off his helmet. The action let his long blond hair and his shaved skin breathe once again. A long horizontal scar was visible next to his left eye, whose pupils were colored of a deep blue. He seemed to be in the peak of his youth. Although, since he was of the Undead, age was something that couldn't be known from looks alone.

By taking the metal off, the young man noticed how different his headwear was from his recollection. It was a knight's helm to be sure, but an ordinary one. Not engraved or reinforced. But most importantly, this was not his original wear. His chest-piece, leggings and gauntlets were also unfamiliar. Surprised by this strangeness, he quickly looked around for his true belongings. Failing to find them, he searched for a culprit. But there was no-one in sight. This theft irritated him greatly.

" _What madness is this ? Who dares treat an heir of Fire like so!"_ He clenched his fists and clicked his tongue against this ignominy. This simple display of rage was made in vain, however, as no target could bear this grudge. Exhaling his frustration away, the bereaved warrior decided to ascertain his situation. First, was the workings on his new attire: He didn't remember seeing this design before. Though the metal was made from good steel and covering his body efficiently, its lack of resilience and prolonged use was obvious. He was a noble. Not some common recruit destined to wear old chunks from his elders.

He had acquired new weapons as well. A simple longsword and a large metal shield were affixed to his side and back respectively. Simple and in decent shape, he might defend himself at least. He decided he had stayed idle long enough. Perhaps there were hidden trinkets around.

The newly attired knight walked in a circle to analyze his immediate surroundings, prudent. That place was strange, trapped between rocky hills surrounding a barren land. There were gravestones embedded on those hills, and mounds of ashes were spread here and there alongside the occasional high grass. A small body of water could be seen downhill, and the dim sky was laced with clouds. The grey was dominant. Nothing of interest was visible except for the stone coffin he had emerged from. It had been placed below a dried tree and was filled with ashes of uncertain origin. There were no symbols nor writings to indicate its provenance or purpose. A shame. All had been learned and still no one had come into view. It was time to walk away and seek shelter...

He had barely taken a step forward, that the powerful noise of a bell stopped him in his track. A long and grave noise. A familiar tune, but he couldn't quite remember when he heard it last. As if answering the call, the stone of another coffin on his left fell hard on the ground. Its occupant had awoken too. Two fists could be seen emerging from it, extended in triumph.

"Mwahahahaha! I'm really Ardent now! I'm... Wait, what ?" said a fruity voice.

It seems the rampage was from a man. A living man. This excited newcomer jumped out of the stone box and landed heavily on the ground right before the surprised knight. The busterly stranger was bigger than most men. He was clad in interwoven chainmail and leather straps. His boots and gloves were of thick leather, something adapted to colder surroundings. An iron shouldergard and a an opened helm completed the set.

A long red-beard as bright as a flame was spewing out of his cheeks and upper lips, and his chiseled visage gave off an aura of raw power. No mere fighter was he.

Once on the ground, the powerful man looked left and right quickly. He immediately noticed the other Ash-risen. Which brought a smile on the stranger's face.

"Oh. Hello little knight. No need to be anxious, I'm friendly. Eh... Sorry to barge out like this. Why are you here ?" said the biggest man in the entire graveyard.

"I know not. But I fear neither do you." answered the knight, letting go of his sword.

Confidently, the man stroked the only shaved area of his chin.

"Oh ? What makes you think that ? We're at the Kiln of the First Flame and I just restored the Fire once again! There's ash around, some rocks... Though I don't remember all those graves being there before... And is that water ?"

A moment of reflexion made the big man reconsider. He sighed violently before admitting his mistake.

"We are not at the Kiln, are we ?"

Closing in on his encounter, the chevalier tried to ascertain their thoughts.

"The name is correct. I believe you refer to the sacred area where Lord Gwin's sacrifice took place. And this strange place doesn't appear to be it. The Kiln presented hills of ash and molten pillars, would such a sight be familiar to you ?" he elaborated.

"Hills of ashes ? Pillars ? That's strange. I remember it differently. No pillars and only one big pile between some rocks, but it was definitely called the Kiln of the First Flame."

The conversation was creating more questions than answers. The young knight thought it best to answer some of those forthwith.

"No matter. Tis high time I presented myself." he bowed slightly: "My name is Aroth of Carim. There are some who call me the Arklaw."

Brutally placing his fist on his heart, the unknown Undead gave an answer.

"Well met Ser Aroth. I am Alrof the Ardent! Proud member of the..."

He stopped his introduction in its track when the sound his fist produced was deemed unfamiliar. Confused, the bearded fellow looked at his vestment for a short moment. A stunned look engulfed his face. Frenetically examining the rest of his equipment, and closing his eyes in a meditation, the red-haired giant finally screamed:

"My armour! Faraam save me! My armour is lost!"

Opening his eyes, he then tried to reach for something on his back, but empty air was all he could grasp. This called for another outburst of despair.

"My axe! My dear Dragonair!" he howled.

The man looked extremely distressed. That was understandable. Aroth himself had gathered many remarkable items and weapons on his journeys. And this man had been robbed of them all just as well. The honorable knight tried to appease his encounter:

"Sorry friend. I too have had my belongings exchanged. Were yours truly precious ?"

The saddened brawler shared his plight:

"The armour... Not precious as you usually think. It was standard issue, but my big brother reforged it as a gift. He had my sigil and initials carved into it to celebrate my admission. As for the axe, It was made from a dragon's throat. Blast it all..."

Transparent pearls were slowly forming under Alrof's eyes, and were immediately wiped away by furry sleeves. It was obvious how a great amount of emotion was embedded into the lost apparatus.

A noise attracted both men's attention before they could continue the conversation. A shadowy figure had emerged from behind the stone-filled hills. It was balancing itself above the thin layer of water. The big cape covering it couldn't mask its true form from the true warriors. They recognised the thin limbs, the dried skin, and the dark empty eyes; twas an Undead that lost its own soul. A Hollow. The tall warrior named Alrof wiped his face and looked at the fiend with a piercing gaze. A hunter watching new game.

"Hollows uh. So I failed to lift the Curse too. Darn." he said, already placing his axe at the ready.

Aroth noticed how the axeman had left a wooden shield on his back, Aroth figured he was used to heavier weapons.

The knight replaced his helmet on his head. Better safe than sorry. And now unsheathed his longsword, taking the lowered stance he had trained under for many years. He commented on the situation.

"The Undead Curse has no cure, I'm afraid. What say you friend ? Let us depart and search for a place to converse in peace ?"

"You got it. Don't you move now, I got some anger in the arms."

Leaving it to the new recruit, was it ? Aroth extended his sword-hand in approbation, and witnessed the barbarian lunging forward, with the caped Undead as a target.

Alrof lifted his axe in one hand, but his movements slowed before he reached the lesser foe, a strange motion. He didn't stop completely but entered another stance instead, carrying his battle-axe with two hands now. Had he miscalculated its weight ?

The bearded man seemed to cringe a moment as he used all his strength to bring down his weapon at the perfect time. Black blood was sprayed on the water. And the caped corpse fell on its back. The enemy had been slain in a single well-placed hit. The victor, however was anything but celebrating.

"By my forefathers! I lost my strength!" complained Alrof as he was still staggering from the effect of his wide movements.

This news was quite alarming for the young knight, who asked plainly:

"How so ?"

Alrof recovered a little bit of breath as the knight joined him. He pointed at the floating carcass with his free hand.

"Well for one, that Hollow is still in one piece. And this axe, I could normally wield it like a feather, but it's not possible now. And I can feel its sturdiness, simple steel, unimproved by any blacksmith. I really lost strength."

Indeed. Now that he thought about it, the fully plated armour weighted heavily upon Aroth's shoulders. He who had worn the strongest metal with no handicap. Could it be ? Those that took their equipment had also extracted souls that they had fed to their bodies ? Inconceivable!

Nervously, the blond-haired warrior proposed a new approach.

"Let us find a bonfire as soon as possible. Who knows what manner of creature awaits us still."

"Hurm..." grumbled the debilitated axeman in what sounded like an approval.

They advanced along the unmoving water. On the right path was a dead end. And above was the end of a giant wall. Masoned out of hewed stones by human hands it would seem. There were some protuberances high above, but nothing to indicate a point of entry. No need to waste time trying to climb around here. They turned back.

The hills were strangely empty in some points in-between the somber rocks, as if big objects had been removed recently, leaving dirt and dust behind. But they proceeded nonetheless.

Arriving at a larger area, they battled four more shriveled Undead. Aroth had joined the fray this time. No need to risk his new ally being overwhelmed.

The Hollows reacted well as they still knew the art of battle. Though stronger and tireless in death, they proved no match against the experienced warriors. The fact that the creatures' weapons weren't in great shape and that old robes were their only protection aided to their demise.

With the enemies slain, they could focus on the obvious point of interest. Next to an immense chalice, in the middle of the crossroad, was an untouched corpse of a dead knight. Aroth kneeled next to the fallen.

"I recognize the armor. Astora. Rest in peace countryman... Your duty has ended."

Part of the comment intrigued Alrof: "Didn't you say you were from Carim ?" he inquired.

As Aroth brushed off the dust of the calm cadaver, he also brushed off the question.

"It's complicated, I shall share the tale. Can you see where that glow is coming from ?

"Sure do. He has something... Ah."

Reaching to the knights body, Alrof grabbed the air, and a blue flask appeared as if forged from his own will. The big man explained:

"He had those tied to his soul, a good amount."

The item was familiar, but neither of the two were certain as to what substance it contained. Aroth took the one the bruiser was handing to him. He examined it intently, making it spin around in his metal hands. The for was identical to the Estus Flask Undead carried with them to recover from wounds in seconds.

"This is... A strange color for an Estus. Its shape is quite normal. Do you believe it may be poison ?" he wondered.

"No idea. Let's hold on to them until we know what to do with them. I can sell them if we can't find what they're for. I know a guy in Majula."

"I do not think either of us are in the lands we came from, warrior Alrof."

"Yeah... Good point."

Now that they were both back on their feet, the knight gave his thoughts:

"Agreed... Now then, I have a long history of exploring new and dangerous grounds. We should go on the right, behind those small ruins. And we keep on going right until we reach an impasse or have made a circle. That way, we can..."

A new noise could be heard before the sentence was finished. Another bell toll, stronger than the last, and lasting longer as well.

"I think I heard that before... Is it getting stronger ?"

Once it had ended, the sound of something great and sturdy falling could be heard from the left, similar as to when Alrof had been freed from his resting place. Pointing themselves towards it, they prepared themselves.

The two companions saw a lightly armored man stepping out of a ruinous building. He had more meat on his bones than an Undead husk.

The newcomer was helmeted and presented a steel plastron on his bust. He wore simple gloves and trousers weaved in white cloth. The new arrival saw them below, and headed down the small staircase to lead to the chalice. His face inexpressive, he showed empty hands while his weapons, a spear and an iron shield, were glued to his back. Was definitely not a Hollow, and not a raving madman at least.

"Pardon my interruption. Are you forlorn? Would you accept my joining you?" asked the stranger, in a monotone voice.

The man was in his late-thirties and had short brown hair. His square face presented a small tattoo on the forehead, shaped in a white circle whose shape remind Aroth of the sigil of the Way of White. The younger knight gave his answer.

"We might. Tis a strange land where we meet one warrior after another. What do you recall from before your awakening?"

"I recall fire. The touch of the flames on my arm, intensifying and eating me whole. I recall my failure."

"You were a Chosen, like ourselves."

"I was... The Flame didn't choose me."

The herald lowered his arms as he went down the steps.

"I am a herald. My oath as a protector urges me to help you." he insisted.

"Are there more of you ?" asked Alrof.

Pavel looked the way he came from, carefully keeping his hands above his shoulders. It took him a moment to make sure of his words.

"No, I awoke in a stone coffin encircled by the walls you see on your right. But if there are more of us? I truly cannot say... I am Pavel, servant to the the Way of White. I repeat, I wish you no harm."

The two men lowered their guards and allowed the newcomer to ease. The knight greeted him with a short bow.

"Well met Ser Pavel." He looked up and down to evaluate the calm lancer. The spear on his back was very simple. An uneven wooden shaft with a raggedy piece of cloth below the steel. Not a weapon that might pierce mighty beings, especially those who protect the First Flame. The armor, only covering the chest, was just as inferior. The conclusion was obvious: "I suspect those are not your normal belongings."

Looking at his gear for an instant, a slight movement of the clergyman's eyebrow was the only visible reaction he produced.

"I didn't steal them, they were all I had on me or within me when I arised..."

"He looks like a nice fellow. Let him join and lets return to the exploring business." asserted Alrof. Awaiting more action and less words.

Aroth nodded

"Yes. Was there anything of value around you friend ? Another path ?"

"No, just the hills. The way ahead and the way you described as right are all there is left unexplored." explained the serious man.

"On we go then."

And so the three Ashen warriors departed to right. Where a sleeping Hollow was waiting for them. But Alrof's axe to the head made him rest in a more permanent fashion. His two companions didn't even need to react.

they passed a flooded passage, uncomfortable because of the absorbing properties tissue on Pavel and Alrof's trousers. At any rate, they reached another opened area, like a small clearing in this forest of graves. In the back were two interesting things. A corpse that emitted a white light, and an enormous lizard covered in crystals. Something none of the trio had ever seen.

They silently crawled into the few specks of grass available, and started conversing anew.

"What is that monstrosity ?" whispered Aroth.

" _We take the right_ you said. You didn't expect this did you ?" joked Alrof.

The crystalized creature was standing in ambush. In front of it, the slight glow over a corpse indicated the presence of souls, or at least something they could extract from the unmoving Undead.

They started discussing how they should proceed.

"If we take care of it, I am certain we will acquire much souls and a sizable bounty. It looks like an evolved version of a cowardly crystal lizard. Nothing three champion of the Fire can't handle." proposed Pavel.

"Sadly, our awakening here has left us in a weakened state. I don't think we should take the risk. You know how fast those things are, and this one is much larger."

"What do you mean by 'weakened state'?" inquired the spear-wielder.

"Go on, try lifting your spear or show off your skill. You'll understand." said Alrof.

Still hidden in the greenery, Pavel entered a praying stance.

"I'd rather prepare us for battle." he said as he closed his eyes.

From nothingness, the herald took a small talisman made of woven cloth, and prayed a moment... a long moment. Nothing happened, no illumination from the talisman or its user.

"Good riddance... Spells and miracles don't work either." sighed the muscular man.

His voice still monotonous, the miracle-user expressed his concern.

"I thought I could... I have cast miracles before, I remember the feeling of using them, so why can't I invoke the gods ?" his voice was quivering. Not good, men of faith grow more vulnerable to despair than others when the gods don't answer them.

"It is not them, it is you. Can you fill the souls that connected you to their strength ? Those with whom you had become one ? They have been extracted." supposed Aroth

"So you think..."commenced Pavel

A great sound stopped their thinking process. Another Bell toll. The noise was starting to get painful. The lizard didn't seem inconvenienced though it moved his head on the direction it was emanated from.

Sadly, that direction included the group.

Thankfully, something else aggroed the monster before he could notice them. Thankfully for the group only.

A stone slab had fallen with great violence in the middle of the area. A grave had been opened once again. Its occupant, a blue clad figure with a shaven head stumbled out with curiosity in the eyes.

The lizard wasn't blind nor deaf, sadly. It immediately charged its newfound prey. Rolling out with its crystal spikes perforating the grounds. Noticing the advancing crystal wheel in time, the sky-colored Ashen one dodged with a quick side step. Having missed its mark, the monster paused a moment as he hit the walls of the ashen hills.

"WHY YOU LITTLE!" yelled the aggressed warrior with a high-pitched voice. Now drawing a steel mace and using it against the thick skin of the monster. BUt the lizard waved its arms with great violence in retaliation. The cleric blocked the blow with a small blue shield but lost balance in the process.

"We must help this poor soul!" screamed Aroth.

As a single body, the three men charged towards the monster with their weapons drawn. The new arrival was already engaging the enemy. Proceeding to crush the extended limbs of the animal.

The arriving group ran much too close to the creature however. Noticing them between its scales, the lizard's long tail was used as a whip on all three of them. Aroth and Pavel had successfully blocked the sudden blow with their shield and were merely unbalanced. Alrof had barely avoided the blow but a protubering crystal had managed to slice his left arm. The wound was quite deep.

"Godforsaken loss of speed..." he mumbled behind grinding teeths.

No time to think. They spread out on all sides of the monster in order not to imper each other's actions.

Piercing with a spear. Slicing with a sword. Hacking with an axe. Massacring with a mace. The creature was staggered quickly and opened its jaws as if trying to breath anew. The party didn't let this chance pass. The mace-wielder struck it true. The blow sent the animal towards Pavel who lodged his spear deep into its throat while Alrof landed a skyward strike on its upper mouth. Aroth's flurry stopped hitting its mark as the creature faded away.

The beast had been slain. And each of them felt souls penetrating their essence. An indescribable feeling. Though the amount wasn't very impressive.

The assisted robed one could be clearly seen now. A young lady with a brown tattoo around her left eye, with white bandages on her arms and legs. She showed a bald head and brown eyes, a peculiar sight for any of the rescuers. Out of nowhere, she pulled a strange scale made from the lizard they had slain. She was chosen as the recipient for its soul-bound treasure apparently.

Watching the strange material in her hands, she addressed it as if the monster was still among them.

"Twas no way to treat a daughter of the Sun, Ô sparkling one." smiled the young lady while removing the dirt from her blue dress.

"No, twas not. Are you well milady ?"

Turning towards those who had assisted in her victory, the young cleric nodded.

"A bit bruised by flying rocks. But your companion needs truer assistance. Come to me."

A regular Estus flask in hand, Alrof came closer to the bald-headed cleric.

"I should warn you missy, miracles and spells don't work after awakening from those coffins."

"Verily ? Not even the most basic of prayers ?"

"I am not certain. You could try a simple Heal." inquired Pavel

Reaching to her side, the lady grabbed a cold golden bell. Bringing it to her face, she shared her disappointment.

"Oh... My personal talisman is gone too. But the Sun itself shall never abandon its follower."

Kneeling gracefully, the woman was now shining slightly. After a small moment, she rung her rustic bell and a circle of light was produced. It was a familiar sight for all present here. A true miracle of the gods.

The wounds on each one's body were closing. Not completely, but at least Alrof's bleeding had stopped.

"And the corpse ?" asked Alrof

Pavel had approached it alone. Reaching his hand into the dead man's chest. The white light was transferred to the herald's left hand.

"Only a soul, I'll hold on to it. And I believe I will be able to produce a miracle too. Only, not one that might help any of you directly." answered Pavel

"Understood." said Aroth. At least the follower of the Way of White would prove more dangerous a foe for any who would attack the group.

"My person be Zealous, Zealous Aveny. Tis a name I was given to represent how devoted I am to the great and benevolent body that never truly disappears."

Alrof was confused

"What great body ? I mean you look fine if you meant..."

"The SUN!" shouted Aveny with great pride. Emoting the well known salute to the celestial wonder. Forming a Y and extending her feet ashard as she could. A very satisfying process it would seem.

Aroth didn't react, though a warmth entered his heart. Pavel nodded and smiled for the first time since he had joined the group. Alrof face looked like it said "Oh, you're one of those."

Getting themselves back on track, Aveny joined the party. Sharing what had happened on the way back to the corridor, the four companions were smiling. If they had to be stranded here after failing in their quest of Linking the Fire, at least they had found good company.

Back in the corridor, the group heard a Hollow's howling coming from the remaining path. They immediately headed out to meet their foe.

To their surprise, a Hollow was indeed present, but it was already Dead. The thicker part of a wooden club lodged in its mouth. Its killer was on the left and already leaving. It turned towards them. Fallen graves and rocks were blocking the sight of his body. The blond knight observed his visage.

A familiar visage. He had long and straight black hairs, an unkept beard, and great muscles despite his slim figure. His skin was greatly whittened and his visage was most beautiful. For Aroth, there was no mistake as to his identity.

"Amon!" he shouted in anger.

"That voice..."

Removing his helmet once again, Aroth advanced towards this hated person with hurried steps.

"Well well... Greetings, Brother." said the encounter with crossed arms and a peaceful face.

Both had recognised an old acquaintance. This reaction didn't stop Aroth from , on the contrary.

"Don't call me that you... you..."

His sword already removed from its scabbard, Aroth stopped himself when he fully noticed his enemy. Not hidden behind graves anymore, he could see his foe was unarmed. Unprotected also. Very unprotected. Which made the Arklaw blurt the obvious.

"You have no clothes ?"

"Very observant." looking at his armoured brother, the underdressed noble sighed and continued.

"You were always most lucky. Now, put your weapon away 'old friend'. Our situation requires help from any source. You are smarter than that. I am unarmed, my little club is still lodged in"

"Only you could have brought us here, murderer. Did you adopt a new twisted sense of fashion ?" asked Aroth, his sword still in hand.

"Think for a moment, if you can. There is no way I could manage such a thing. And you know better than to assume I would willingly wear a loincloth only. I came to my senses some time ago only to find myself completely deprived, except for some primitive weaponry. Much like you I wager, you look like a new recruit. I don't suppose you have spare clothes to share ?"

The man's confidence was staggering. It was as if the four arrivals were the ones naked. That man was not a brittle sort.

"Can't you just, take some ? Your white skin is blinding me..." said Alrof while scratching his red beard.

"Your companion sounds still confused. Freshly out of the grave I wager. We are Undead. Only what has been infused with souls can be interacted with. And apart from ashes and wind, there is nothing to pilfer. To my dismay."

The ash-skinned fighter removed the wooden mass from the skull of his victim. He then pulled the dead Hollow's carcass into the void. Appreciating the spectacle, Amon continued.

"I've been murdering those weak creatures for items, but so far I only gathered objects of no interest."

"Then you'd have no qualm with showing them." demanded Aroth, his muscles stiff and ready for any sudden movement.

"Annoying... Put down your sword and I'll gladly share what I earned in battle."

Reluctantly, Aroth sheathed his longsword and let Amon deposit a few items on the ground, seemingly out of nowhere. One of the assets of being Undead. There was a few bombs, some wriggling souls, and a cleric's bell.

"This is the same one I have ? It really doesn't feel blessed by the gods..." said Aveny, pensively. The rest of the group ignored her comment.

Now closer to Amon's face, Aroth noticed the tattoo that had been placed over his left eye. Interlinked black lines that formed a great labyrinth.

"I see your mark of exile still serves its purpose."

"So you say."

"Body carvings stayed fixed apparently. Like miss Aveny's tattoos, and maybe mine too ? You'll have to tell me once we find a good spot. You too are family uh ?" asked Alrof.

"Of a sort." Amon says

"If you consider patricides as part of the fold." Aroth retorts

An awkward silence ensued. Broken by the strong axeman, thankfully:

"I have a brother too. Or had. He got eaten by a big drake."

"Anyway, are you alone among those graves ? You seem to have been here longer than us." asked Pavel.

"Not too long, I just kill quickly. Weapons are but a tool for on with my experience. To answer your question, no. Apart from pathetic Hollows with broken swords and sticks, I saw a peculiar old man sleeping next to a tree, not too far from here. He should still be there."

"And you didn't try to bother him ?"

"Not all people are as hospitable as you, 'Lord of Carim'. But I digress. Bonfire ahead, let us discuss there."

Another pike. But Aroth restrained himself. So far, Amon had been cooperating, and his companions didn't know either enough to take a side. More importantly, a bonfire was near. Finally.

"Praise the Sun! A bonfire! Let us go at once everyone. Then we'll assist the poor soul. The more of us, the better the chances of leaving this place unscathed." said Aveny, determined.

"Agreed." answered Pavel.

"Aye" continued Alrof.

As the rest of the Ashen ones headed up the hill, Aroth pondered.

 _That murderous scum is here too... How many of us are still asleep ? What manner of land is this ?_


	2. Rest and Recovery

A transperced mount of bones and ashes was burning brightly. The Sword was old and rusted, it was what was commonly called a Bonfire. Those little sanctuaries were scattered throughout the land, serving as checkpoint to this world's undeparted guests. Next to it, a dried Hollow carcass laid still, flat on its belly and with a crushed skull. Amon, the fifth member of the newly formed group of Undead warriors, approached it and exhaled in annoyance. "Pardon me, I forgot about him." he said.

As he had done short moments before, Amon pushed the corpse with his bare feet, and lead it on the edge of the cliff. His goal was obvious. "Must you indulge in your sadistic actions in front of us ?" launched his Aroth with a saccharine voice. Not putting a stop to his motion, the naked noble retorted. "Excuse me 'your Lordship', I didn't know the smell of a rotten corpse was your favorite kind of perfume." as he pushed the unmoving black corpse into the mists below.

The knight couldn't find a good argument to launch at his hated brother. In truth, he had made a good decision. An exasperated axeman declared his impression:

"We all heard when you called the man "murderer". But he has been nice so far, little knight. No offense, I believe you and alll. Also, he's funny. So try to keep your concerns for when we get out of this place." Alrof sat at the bonfire, spreading a small cloud of dust from his weight. "Thank you, brave man. Shall we ?" appreciated Amon who let himself fall against a rectangular gravestone. He was imitated by the young cleric and the calm lancer. Their muscles relaxed as they incorporated the mystical flames' miraculous properties.

The five companions now formed a circle around the flames. Each seated differently. Alrof was spread on his side, with a hand sustaining his bearded head. Amon was resting against a gravestone, pensive. Pavelplaced his spear on his shoulder and removed his helmet as well. Revealing short brown hairs and a tattoo representing a white aureola on his forehead. And finally, Aveny was kneeling modestly, scratching the protuberance on the back of her blue robe. Aroth, after placing his weapons in front of him, removed his helmet to let his blond ponytail out of his neck.

Over their heads, the wind was blowing softly. It carried and a strange tune, grave and unnatural. Aroth and Pavel seemed perplexed, but something else caught the knight's attention. On his shield, something was amiss. Or rather, something was missing.

"This is... Interesting ?" he said, surprised.

"What is ?" asked Aveny.

"My shield... Well... This shield. There was a large gash from where I blocked a great lizard's attack. But it returned to its previous state."

Unmoved by the confusion, the bearded fighter responded.

"Well of course, what else did you expect ? You're at the bonfire."

Aveny nodded while Amon chuckled silently. Only Pavel seemed to share the knight's concern:

"Aroth has a point. I don't remember repairing my own shield either. I do not even have a dedicated kit." he said.

Perplexed by their insistence, Alrof changed position.

"Whatever for ? Nothing is broken beyond the bonfire's powers, no ?"

It was a pale Undead who gave an explaination: "I believe I can explain. Aroth here, and you, Ser Pavel, probably arose from earliest iterations of the Age of Fire. Times before the First Flame and the bonfires it feeds had absorbed the strength of legions of souls. So many heroes, gods and monsters had been poured into it by Champions of Fire who gathered essence during their journeys. As a result, the rules that bind the world became twisted over time." Amon pointed at the sparkling light of the flaming sword. "Bonfires, for instance, give new services, like the regeneration of equipment, but lost other things in return."

Those were complex concepts to grasp. Basically, things worked differently and they would have to adapt their approach in the coming days.

Alrof scratched his red fur and focused on another part of the explanation: "Oh oh! So you three are older than kingdoms, and you're still kicking ? Bwahaha! That's the Undead curse for you!" His carefree demeanor was virulent, Aveny's eyes sparkled with interest: "The earliest Ages you said ? Oh! Oh! I have questions! Did you meet the Gods O ancient ones ? Was the Sun as bright as it is now ?" she inquired.

"Well, er... I didn't exactly." commenced Pavel, taken aback.

Aroth, clearly aiming to get away from his brother

"This is no place for this discussion, at least not yet. Amon, where is the man you told us about ?"

"We could use another companion, given our altered condition..." confirmed the relieved herald.

Amon extended a thumb to the area ahead: "It's just there. Surely you can hear him."

"What ?" asked Aroth, Pavel and Aveny at the same time.

"Extend your ears and behold his great aura."

All rised and joined Amon a few metres away, on the edge of a smaller cliff. Below the small group was a man in an ash-colored robe, sleeping peacefully over a coffin that probably contained him until now. A hood was concealing his face. The noise he produced confirmed he was still among the living. Observing this strange fellow from atop the rocks, the five adventurers conversed anew.

"He is quite noisy... How long has he been there ? " asked the curious cleric.

Amon shrugged: "Not too long. He woke up the moment after a small bell was tolled. I believe there is one for every coffin that opens in these grounds. And its call grows in intensity with each warrior it awakens."

"Why didn't you meet with him, and how can you tell it is an old man, ?" inquired a suspicious Aroth

Another raising of shoulders was given: "I would never bother an elder man trying to rest. Twould be disrespectful. And I know of his age because of the color of his tone..." Amon added a little smile as he recollected something else "Doesn't his tune sound familiar ?"

In the silence of the ash filled hills. The grave wheeze could be distinctly heard from the man seated against the tree. It echoing for a while, then followed by an equally long whistle. It sounded faked, but was definitely most annoying, and the group couldn't ignore it now... Unware, the senior Unkindled was slowly balancing as his legs still hanged over the hole of his stone coffin.

"Gods... He sounds like the Kingseeker now that I think about it." admitted the blond-haired knight.

"He is correct. I heard his terrible turbulence many times over..." commented Pavel. He was apparently reminiscing of his past life, in a place filled selfsame people.

"Did you now ? I don't believe the Serpent ever mentioned you." replied Aroth.

"Neither were you among his thoughts..." wondered the servant of White. "Maybe the Old Snake simply forgot ?"

"You hail from different eras, remember ? Just hope he doesn't smell like him up close. No ?" interfered the almost naked man. Amon approached the border and invited others to do so as well. So, the group climbed down from the small cliff head. Each in their own way. Aroth jumped to the side and used his shield to slide over the ashes. Alrof simply jumped without ceremony. Aveny and Pavel both grabbed the ledge before letting go. Amon sat on the edge before propulsing himself down.

All had landed unscatthed, and were now very close to the old sleeper. The noise hadn't awakened him. Discussing quickly on who should awake him, Alrof volunteered. But Aroth deemed that brash actions would be dangerous. If the man really was a wizard, who knows what kind of spell he could throw in reaction.

And so Aroth approached silently. He got within two decimetres of the coffin when the snoring stopped.

Opening his eyes as if he was never sleeping to begin with, the new stranger looked indeed old. Removing his hood, his traits were more apparent. He had a great unkempt blue beard and his long and greasy hairs' tips were curling. Under his ash-colored cape was a deep blue uniform. He looked like the very definition of a sorcerer.

 _At least he doesn't awaken like Frampt._ Thought Aroth

"I did not expect visitors..." said the wary sage.

"I'm sorry to have startled you. May I ask for your name ?"

"Hurm... Afore demanding an elder's name, you should all introduce yourselves."

"Forgive our rudeness ancient one. I am named Aroth the Arklaw. The ones accompanying me are the Lawless..."

"Let us introduce ourselves, 'Arklaw'." interrupted Amon coldly.

"White-skin has a point. I'm not even sure I remembered everyone's name." admitted Alrof, scratching his great red beard.

With a reluctant nod, Aroth let his comrades present themselves, starting from the right :

"I am Amon, Lawless Amon. A pleasure." he said, emoting a slight bow.

"Alrof the Ardent! Same..."

"Aveny. I am known as the Zealous. And an admirer of our precious Sun." said the bald woman with joined hands.

"Steadfast Pavel. Herald of the Way of White." said the calm lancer in his monotonous voice.

"An outstanding amount of titles to be sure... And you are in the presence of the famed Gyron the Learned. Greatest scholar of the Dragon School from the earliest days of the arcane. And maintaining this position even through to the infinite future. You have heard of me surely ?"

 _That is one great ego he has._ Was what everyone else thought.

All tried to recollect anything about this person. But nothing came to mind.

Not waiting for a response, the older man arised at once. He was old, but very lively. Stepping over the opened stone box, he advanced towards the nearest cliff-face.

"I won't refuse sharing my wisdom, but I don't think this is a great place to discuss. Why don't we head towards the near building over the hill ?" he said joyously as he headed confidently towards the walls ahead.

"Pardon me master Gyron, but it looks quite high. Let us assist you." said Pavel

"Humpf... Don't insult me. I'll just prepare myself."

Apparently casting a spell with his staff. The old man walked confidently over the edge, before Pavel and Aroth could stop him. Prepared to land gracefully; Gyron kept his body unmoving while in mid-air, everything seemed alright for a split second. However...

"Yaouch!"

The old man had landed unsafely. His legs weren't ready for the force they had to go through. The old man stumbled and his arms barely caught a second fall forward.

"Ow... Heavens... What is the meaning of this ?"

Quickly joining the sorcerer, the company reenacted a descent. Aveny was the first to touch him.

"Oh my Sun... Do you need healing, old sage ? You tried to cast a spell ?"

"My legs... I have known Fall control since I was a little boy. How could I fail now ?"

The confident façade had left the wizards face. While Aveny began casting the minor healing miracle on the poor scholar, Aroth explained what could have caused this mishappening.

"For an unknown reason, each of us has lost the souls that had permeated our beings. We are weaker than we should be..."

"And we forgot about our original arcane techniques. We start from a basic set of skills." finished Pavel

The miracle had done its part in the middle of the explanation. Gyron stood back up immediately. But his mind had a hard time accepting this notion.

"Thank you young lady. It is quite an annoyance. Quite an annoyance... I cannot fathom relearning all my sorceries... The souls I had devoted..."

"On the brighter side, we might now choose how to integrate them adequately. I am sure you chose an unneeded aspect of yourself once or twice. And since we are a blank slate, our improvement will go that much more quickly." added Aroth. Trying to cheer the afflicted sorcerer.

"Aroth ? The way you said it, it would mean you couldn't reshape your inner souls once you fed it ? Exactly how long ago did you come from ?" asked Aveny.

All the questions and mysteries were adding up on the group. They were discussing left and right in a blur. Trying to ascertain their thoughts. But the nearby Hollows and the stress of their awakening were boggling their minds. Hollows ? There were three of them coming from behind another path, and another was hiding in the archway. The latter had taken a crossbow and was aiming at them.

"On your guards!" shouted Amon

In retaliation, Gyron launched an attack from hs wand while Aroth raised his shield instinctively. A blue mystical arrow flew towards the souless bowman just as his bolt was loosed. The spell hit its mark while the quarrel was stopped by the knight's shield.

Alrof and Pavel charged on the other Hollows. Aroth, Aveny and Amon sheated their weapons, victory could be considered achieved. Amon's sheathing made use of the entirty of his loincloth and Aveny let out a little giggle. This sound warmed the heart of the deprived noble and he smiled in return, unashamed. Something Aroth couldn't possibly comprehend. How long had Amon lived for him to change so ? Gyron, in the meantime, wasn't amused.

"A bloody soul arrow. Unimproved in any way. At least I can produce that." mumbled the rugged sorcerer.

Finishing off the other Hollows at close-range, Alrof and Pavel came back to the fold.

"Let's not waste time and head to the summit. We'll discuss like men and not like old firekeepers." finally said an annoyed Alrof.

On that note. The six strangers advanced towards the arc stone nearby.

They all stopped when they heard yet anther interruption. Rocks were falling on the left of the archway. Something big was falling from the summit of the graveyard.

"Dangnabbit!" shouted a female voice.

Landing on top of the wall, she lost balance because of the violence of her arrival. She fell on the group's side and her full body came into contact with the ground.

That fall looked far more painful than Gyron's. The woman had fallen from quite the height before reaching the ruins. Probably from atop the hills given the damage. Losing blood quickly but she saw the group

"Hoy there... Y'all..." she whispered while a bottle appeared in her hand. A hand she tried to move with all her strength.

She lost consciousness before the yellow flask could reach her lips.

"Aveny! Pavel!"

Without other instructions, the cleric and the herald rushed to her assistance. Aroth raised his shield in case more rocks could fall on them.

Pavel, though unable to cast miracles was determined to help. Drinking the injured ladies' Estus, he kissed her and transfered the content in a meager hope to stop her from dying.

The estus had penetrated. But the lady kept still. UNtil she violently opened her eyes

Liking her lips and observing Pavel's blushing face. She headbutted him straight in the nose.

"Thanks ya withey monklover."

"Aoh... Excuse me ?"

"Ya heard me. Ah'm grateful for the saving an' all but the last thing ah need is some debt to a droolin' herald of the White Way."

"Those are just clothes. I mean I am a herald... However that doesn't mean I.

While desparation was taking hold of the normally ice cold Pavel, the party sheathed their weapons. The danger was more in the gal's words than her actions. Getting back on her feat, still trying to balance herself and slowly getting her back upright, she waved at the rest of the adventurers.

"Bloomseer Carra of da Great Swamp. Savior of da Flame of Chaos an' Burner of Demons. Nice ta meet ya."

In the ensuing silence, only Aroth stepped up.

"Can you tell us why you fell like so ? We didn't see any coffin from here nor heard any bell to tell of your existence."

"Oh that ? I was up an' about since before y'all. I was tryin' ta reach the top of those rocks back where there's water. Ah dunno if you got there yet. But there was a wall in the way and nowhere else to go. Ah kept climbing but it took too long a while ta get anywhere. Maybe ah got lost also..."

The young woman was ecstatic as she spoke, thrilled to be able to speak to someone at long last."

"Anywho, ah was climbin' for a while an' almost reached the big tree ya can see behind. But those hills are more dangerous than a Mama Crab that smelled some berries on ya."

Indeed. Any attempt at climbing would only result in broken bones, even if everyone adopted Amon's current fashion to get themselves lighter.

"I'm sure glad I fell on your side. The big fella looked real dangerous from up there."

"You mean me ? You're on my side you know ?" demanded Alrof, with a thick eyebrow raised high.

"Oh I didn't see you! Nice meetin' ya. An' I meant the other guy."

"You mean behind those walls"

"See fer yerself friends."

Finally properly in front of the entrance, the group could see what lay ahead. An immobile armour in the middle of a great circle made of hard stones. Behind it

"We have nothing to fear. Advance as one. Gyron and Carra, stay back. Should it awaken, destroy it." whispering

"Nobody died yet to make you leader of this little company, Aroth." snarkly commented Amon. And he was right. Aroth was already commanding everyone simply because he had more confidence than the rest.

"I would gladly oblige you, wretch."

"Does anyone here possess binocular ?" asked Aveny

None answered.

"That big fella has oily tendrils on da back... And not slugs. Ah know about slugs." observed Carra thanks to her keen eyes.

It was true. Focusing on the armour's back, all now noticed a wriggling shadow

"The Abyss ? Gods... Has the world been infected once more ?" reflected Pavel.

"This changes much. If this foe has absorbed some amount of Abyss within, then his might would be quite formidable." continued Gyron, who had finally gotten some confidence back.

"A might that would prove inferior to ours. However diminished we may be, he is but one entity." explained Aroth.

Being the oldest of the group, at least in appearance and mannerism, Gyron explained his idea.

"Let us partake in the ancient ways of the Dragon School. Should anyone want to share his thoughts, he should first raise his hand in silent until I choose to listen to him. Let this ritual prove the solution to our unease."

The armoured behemoth wasn't moving yet. But the group didn't want to waste more time bickering with no chance to prove their point. They all nodded. Aroth, Amon and Aveny raised their hands.

"You servant of the Gods."

"We could simply climb the wall or use the cliffs on the right to avoid confrontation. We have enough number to help each other reach highest ground."

"Not a good idea... Once separated, the..." started Pavel.

"Raise a hand to share your thoughts..." repeated Gyron, vexed. "You can interrupt to agree or dismiss, but no elaboration please."

After raising his hand in silence, and being approved, Pavel bounced back.

"Once separated, we don't know if the giant will awaken and slay the fugitive first. Or worse, he could attack while we are on each other's shoulders. As for the cliffs, much like the hills, they made of extremely brittle stones. We risk a fall that would only kills us before we even know what lies beyond the walls."

"A sound argument."

"Oh, and I confirm about going down da cliff. Completely impossible." added Carra.

Ignoring the commenters, Pavel awaited other options. Three more hands were raised. Aveny's, Amon's and Aroth's.

"Lawlfest Amon ?" continued Gyron.

Strangely pleased with the wanky title, the naked man started in a happy tone.

"We don't know if a fog wall could form when engaging the warrior. But if we send someone ready to die and confirm his behavior, then at least we would know if confrontation is inevitable."

"Would you test this foe yourself ?"

"Gladly, but I wager I might kill him and keep the souls for myself. And you wouldn't stand for it would you ?"

Sighing, but not approving nor dismissing, the young man raised his hand.

"Ser Aroth."

"Amon raised a good point. But we outnumber this great being seven to one. The souls he would release would be passed to each of us equally. But in order not to displease anyone, let us get some rest and discuss what each of us would do with those souls. I'm sure Carra would also want her Estus recharged"

No one raised his hand after this. Gyron began

"All in favor of Amon's proposal, say Aye."

No one answered, not even Amon himself.

"Then we should go back to the Bonfire and discuss our options. All in favor ?"

"Agreed" "Aye." "Aye." "Obviously." "Aye" "Aye"

Each seemed confident in the arguments in the favor of them grabbing the enemy's souls. The discussion would be a thing of legend. As they returned up the hill in smaller groups, tackling Hollows along the way, Alrof took Aroth by the shoulder.

"By the way Aroth... the Arklaw ?

"Yes, Ardent Alrof ? You can call me Aroth if you wish."

"Its THE ardent... You know what it sounds better your way so keep calling me that. Anywho, you remember the blue estus flasks we found a while ago ?

"I do..." a moment of thought was all the young man needed. "How many are there ?"

"Ten. I think... We should share them at the bonfire as soon as we can."

"Certainly, go ahead. Maybe Amon knows about them."

Alrof sprinted ahead, Aveny welcomed him back. Amon too was waiting while the rest started discussing. But Aroth ignored him.

And so, seven Ashen ones sat at the bonfire, in order to prepare to face a most fearsome battle.


	3. Meetings and Questions

The warmth of the Bonfire was permitting each of the seven Undead. The young and lively Carra had summoned a flame in her hand and patiently focused on what she could now do in her altered state. Gyron, grim of face, was also trying out what little sorceries he could produce; trying to determine how many spells he could launch before losing his abilities.

The others tried to get themselves used to the newest culinary arts designed for the Undead.

"Tastes like regular tea. At least I can TASTE how regular it is, can't complain..." said Alrof for whom this was the first time drinking from the mysterious Estus flask.

Alrof had given one to each Ashen one, there were three left to give away. Carra, who had been the test subject without need for bargaining, had explained how they restored an Undead's mental fatigue. _Ah feel like ah woke up from a good long dream on mah beastie's belly!_ was what she said. This new aspect on sorcery and combat allowed miracles to be produced as long as one could think clearly. It also enabled a warrior to act with much more flexibility, they may focus on detailed battle-arts and read through their opponents.

"Ya drank tea ? Me too! My Master was a crummy sort but he sure knew his plants." Asked Carra

Alrof seemed like the type who drank a lot in his normal life. And likely not of the soft kind.

"Of course I drank tea, there was always some at Faraam's fortress between assignments. And then everyone became Undead. But some of us kept the cups for memory. Watch. Mine is a bit broken but it's always..."

Raising an opened hand as a reflex, nothing appeared in the great warrior's hand. He cursed his blunder.

"Bloody wonderful... I don't even have it anymore..."

Carra placed her hand on Alrof's shoulder. She knew how precious any common items infused with history and souls could be, espiecially for an Undead. Alrof patted her back with strength in return.

"Ah ah! I appreciate the concern little lady. I do miss my folk."

Thankfully, the pyromancer's shatterred bones had been restored by the bonfire. Trying to pick a new subject, Alrof addressed the first companion he had met.

"So Aroth. You are from Carim ? You said so when we met the old Gyron."

"I am linked to Carim, tis not my birthplace however. I am one of the three descendants of the late Earl of Carim."

"And I am their elder brother. Aroth was adopted early in his life and had earned his place through prestige and favors. As for me, I am heir to all of Carim by birthright. " added Amon.

"Untrue, Exile."

With his usual confidence, AMon gave a new verbal blow to his brother.

"My mistake, you have no prestige..."

This display of disdain was tiresome.

"Will you two make peace already ? We are trying to determine what else is wrong with our situation. The amount of Estus we can carry for once."

"Only three sips and it's empty. Not much." complained Alrof. Who had been drinking more of it for the taste.

"Only three... This is not good at all. The might of this bonfire is greatly diminished too. We should kindle it if we find any humanity..." said Aroth who had followed this change of subject.

"Kindle it ? Whaddya mean ?" asked Carra with a green eyebrow raised into her tiara.

Gyron and Pavel were ready to explain, but it was Amon who declared:

"Forgive my brother-in-law. He and those two gentlemen are older than you can realise. As I said earlier, after numerous Ages of Fire and Ages of Dark, the world has become confused and new rules were enacted and removed many times over. In the earliest days. It was possible to feed humanity into a bonfire to strengthen it. That way, the estus was far more potent without any other action needed."

Proving his title of Learned, Gyron commented further:

"Indeed. The flask was unscatthed and could hold a great amount. However, it could be fully refilled only at the bonfire you had kindled. Quite the conundrum when one has to travel to faraway lands with no humanity."

"Humanity ?" Alrof, and Carra were perplexed by the use of the notion.

While Gyron explained what they meant to the three curious souls, Aroth did something he wasn't happy to do. Ask his exiled brother a question.

"Amon... how long have you been wandering this land exactly ?"

Lowering his voice not to imper the discussion from the rest of the group, the naked man gave a bare-faced answer:

"Much longer than you may realise. I got quite bored with the Dark that came between some of the Linkings after a while, so I stopped interfering."

"The Dark ? You let the Fire fade willingly ? There better be a good reason other than some nihilistic perversion."

Advancing his torso, the deprived gave his sibling his full attention.

"Don't assume things when you know not the full story. Dark is not the end. Nor is the Fire eternal. I learned so through the old fashioned way."

Now everyone in the group paid attention to this claim.

"Great heroes came and successfully enlightened the world, even when Fire was but a little point in the Dark. They burned bright and the Fire started fading not long after. The cycle repeated itself so many times that it began to feel futile. But one time, the Dark held on for a very, very long while. I wandered the world, met many twisted monsters and maddened souls. Bored out of my mind, I even tried restoring the First Flame myself. And that's how I ended up here. At least someone must have felt inspired by my efforts since the world seems to have been enlightened."

Finishing his story, Amon stood up and stretched his bare body. His buttocks were itchy. The ashes and rocks were able to penetrate his white skin in a most unpleasant fashion. Removing the dust from his legs, he jested.

"Fate has quite the sense of humour. I had the most wondrous of armour while I burned... You'd have cut your own throat out of jealousy."

This pike made a vein pop up under Aroth's scar.

"I do not believe you. And even were that true, I would never hold jealousy over anything you might possess." he growled.

"I possess a sense of courtesy, little lordling. Something you clearly have lost along with your head." reciprocated Amon.

Tired of his sharp-tongued relative Aroth stood up as well. With fire in the eyes. Advancing towards the Lawless with a clenched fist. Amon reached for his club by rote.

"Whoa whoa whoa... Calm yerself Ser Aroth." Asked Carra, placing herself between the two.

"And you, naked man, stop looking for trouble." added Alrof, disappointed.

"Crickey... Just tell us yer full story instead of showin' how much y'hate each other's guts." said an exasperated Carra, playing with her hand all the while. Her flame of pyromancy dancing gracefully within it.

"Do not worry friends, I would never do anything to endanger our survival. Even striking this... my former brother-in-law. If I tell you about his action, it might stop you from assisting in the coming battle. We find a sanctuary before anything can be said. We will keep our mouths shut, won't we, Amon ?" explained the angered knight.

Amon shrugged but nodded in agreement.

Whispering among themselves, the others reached a conclusion.

"Alright. We should explore the area while the others are searching, maybe there are soul-infused corpses or other people to awaken." Proposed Alrof.

"Because of the number of blue Estus Flasks ? It doesn't seem like a compelling evidence." commented Gyron.

"But it fits into the idea that we have been chosen. Each of us has failed to link the Fire and burned away. Now we have been awakened by those bells. Those blue estus Flask were waiting next to a chalice for a reason too."

"I won't deny that this is plausible. But do we really need to remain thusly ? Sitting in the ashes and killing reappearing Hollows ?"

"It shouldn't be long now until we hear more bell tolls. Pavel and Aveny will also bring more news soon."

They kept discussing while Gyron launched spell after spells in the distance. As constant as a clock.

"Are you certain that a firekeeper can strengthen us Alrof ?"

"That's how it worked for me and Carra. I think she's the youngest of us here. So it's probably still a thing."

"Probably..." repeated the unmarked heir of Carim.

Just as they finished discussing, Pavel and Aveny returned.

"Anything ?"

"Some souls, but there are no graves left behind in that direction. Have you explored this section ?"

"Not yet... We lost some time sorting certain matters." responded Gyron as he sat back at the bonfire. Relieved at the recovery of his focus.

"Then lets us depart together. We saw another path down that cliff, it could be a detour that helps us bypass the possessed behemoth." proposed Aroth.

Upon hearing this, the group recovered their scattered equipment, however meager it was. They put on their headwears on and strapped the leathers from their outfits. Amon did nothing of the sort, obviously, while Gyron grumbled for being forced to stand back up so quickly. The latter commented.

"I doubt that we would be so lucky... But do feel free to lead the way."

As they advanced slowly on the uneven grounds, Aroth and Alroth took care of any Hollow that had returned to life. the quickly reached the narrow path guarded by another lone decrepit Hollow. His equipment as rusted as the other's.

"Allow me gal an' gents." demanded Carra as she delicately brushed her companions eside as if moving a piece of cloth.

"That takes me back, ah haven't used that sorta tiny pyromancy on a wimp like that since ah started my journey."

"So when you woke up, you used that little axe until now ?"

"You know it! I had no hunch as to why I couldn't use mah usual might so I made do. Back before ah blasted that Fire, I could 'ave polished this all graveyard into ashes. Well more ashes... Whenever I felt like it."

"We believe you. Now how do we proceed ? We should only go one at a time considering the stench of ambushes."

Ambushes, at the mention of the word, almost everyone cringed. Bad expereinces with falls apparently. Hollows could make themselves very quiet sometimes and favor pushes over knifes in the back.

"Have no fear. Allow me to protect you from harm." said a confident Pavel.

No one went against his wishes, Carra even

"Yer not bad for a witch-hunter nincompoop. I'll remember you."

"Witch-hunter ?"

Ignoring him, Alrof and Gyron added to the commendations.

"You did say you were Steadfast, friend. You are worthy of praise for your courage."

"I'll pray for you if you fall." commented Alrof with one hand lifted in prayer.

Still confident but now unhappy, Pavel advanced with a raised shield. Aroth followed, then Gyron with his spell-casting staff at the ready, and Aveny to close the squadron. The others remained behind to stop any intrusion.

This time too, they didn't need to travel far. Which Pavel appreciated since he wouldn't be pushed aside in any way now. Thus, a dead end was in sight within seconds. However, there was much to observe in this narrow baggin.

First were the three undead. One with a sword, one with a spear and shied, and the last equipped with a crossbow.

Then there was a glowing corpse that promised reward for the bother.

But the most intriguing part were the two stone coffins placed vertically. Each encased in the ashen walls.

"They spotted us..." noticed the herald.

The bowman launched his bolt while the other hungry souls advanced slowly. Pavel caught without much trouble, but he didn't dare advance.

"Give me space, I can launch my arrow!" asked Gyron.

It was at this moment that the bell tolled once more. Twice more actually. And just as expected, the two stone coffins were opened almost simultanously.

Luckily, one of the stone slabs fell directly on the crossbow wielding Undead, he was already dealt with. But the other two Hollows had quickly turned around to prey on the hazy newcomers.

"Not good! Beware the Hollows!" warned Aveny in their direction.

The four men started advancing once again, trying to fit at least two of them side to side. But they would soon learn they needn't bother.

The first who had awoken, dark greay of skin and concealed behind a hooded mask, had only done a simple side step and kicked the Hollow swordsman into the abyss. Meanwhile, the remaining Ashen one walked confidently towards the lancer. He was black of hair under a tightly placed hood, one of his eyes was glowing red under an enormous scar. The last soulless survivor prepared to lunge this unmoving target.

In a manner one can only describe as gracefull, the blackhaired devil made a slight movement of his torso and deflected the spear with a small shield. He then grabbed the Hollow's collar and sent it falling on the rocky surface. Unsheathing a long estoc, he casually pierced the back of his foe's skull before it could recover.

"Fuhuhu... How weak." he said in a sinister voice.

"People..." commented the other one as he looted the corpse of a long-lost soul.

Sheathing back his long dart, the lightly armoured fellow extended his arms greatly as if embracing all of creation.

"Is this the welcoming party for the glorious failures that we are ? You don't seem Hollow, nor unfriendly given how your lady warned us."

"Well met strangers, if you are not enemies, then follow us above before the wind carries us all into the mists." replied Aroth in a serene and powerful voice.

"As you wish."

The two strangers were added to the list of Ashen ones.

The nine adventurers reunited, they headed once again to the bonfire. Pavel explained what had happened to the absentee. And Amon achieved to explain the whole situation.

"All of us have failed to link the Fire, all of us awoke upon hearing a bell, and there is a potentially dangerous monster lying in ambush before the hypothetical sanctuary over on the hill." resumed Alrof. Possibly for himself as well.

"Then what are we waiting for ? Let us slaughter the impertinent swine and be on our way." asked the scarred marauder.

"I didn't say our foe was impertinent, or.. Anyways Why don't you introduce yourself before we proceed ?"

"I'd rather not. I fear some of you may know of me... Celebrity is, a dangerous thing, in my line of work. Fuhuhuhu..."

Although the man had clearly linked the fire, he seemed more dangerous than amicable. He had mid-long black hair that covered his normal right eye for an unknown reason. He was dressed in a tight lace tunic with gloves and trousers of the same fabric. His equipement didn't feel suited to his tastes, but he certainly had adapted to it awfully quickly.

"Let it be, you were the one saying we had to gather for a reason. Don't you trust this fine companion ?" commented Amon with a forcibly naive tone.

Letting out another sinister chuckle, the unnamed Undead tilted his head in amusement.

 _Not creepy at all..._ Thought almost all those present.

"And you little man ? Do you know your companion."

"Never seen before. Only awoke next to him."

"You can share your name at the very least." said Amon, sitting on his usual grave.

Maybe it was because Amon was naked, but the slim stranger grew more confident.

"... Withdrawn Volke... I don't like people..."

"Sorry to hear that young man."

Those banal words had an impact.

"Young man ?" repeated the hooded teenager.

"Yes, young. You could be my son! If I we weren't Undead... You have beautiful eyes you know. Why don't you show us your face."

"Oh yeah, all bright an' blue... definitely mah type of guy! Show yer face, I don't give a hot damn if there's a scar or not."

Confused, the grey-skin youngster obliged his hosts. He removed his hood.

His hair were pure black and unkept, but his sad face was definitely young. He had two tattoos under his eyes representing black tears. A great addition on his somber skin.

Letting his fingers over his face, he became more surprised than before.

"I am, not cursed ?"

"Cursed ? Were you heavily hollowed before you tried to Link the Fire ?"

"I was. And now... I am not ? But please, questions later."

"Alright Volke. Now then, we only have three blue Estus flasks left. Take one you two.." Said Aroth comprehensively.

As the new additions procured the artifact, the knight thought to himself.

 _Only one more bell toll left and maybe, just maybe, we'll have some answers._

"Atten~tion!"

Aveny had clapped her hands to attract everyone's attention. And succeeded. She had been quiet during the conversation, but was now brimming with energy. She took her place on a rock so that everyone could witness the young cleric's speech.

"Friends, the Sun is with us, and our spirits are high. No force could stop us all now. Let us proceed to the stone circle and see what manner of being could possibly stop us." The rays of noon reflected on her brilliant scalp,as the maiden smiled with all her heart. It was a sight to behold. However eccentric it felt for some of the public.

Alrof, Carra and Pavel applauded. Aroth took part after a moment, followed by Amon. Volke almost participated, but lost his will in the middle of the beginning of the action. While the silence of Gyron and the mysterious assassin was deafening.

"Alright then... Move out." finally said Aroth, cutting short the appreciation.

The group was now circling the archway. Waiting for something to happen.

"I thought we would attack now..." commented a frustrated Alrof, rotating his battle-axe between two hands."

"There remains one bell toll left, tis strange how we haven't found the last grave yet." explained Amon.

"t can't be the big one over there, it was probably that big guys."

Although the armour hadn't moved, the Abyss growing out of it was livelier than ever. The group waited more... It was getting quite boring.

"It's not coming... I propose we enter the arena to check inside. it could be on our right, behind the walls." Said the unknown killer.

"I have an ominous feeling on what awaits us there."

Just as Pavel finished sharing his worry, a great noise sounded anew. Grave and echoing throughout the graveyard.

"The Bell! Is there no coffin nearby ?" screamed Aveny over the powerful sound.

"We explored every cranny, there was nothing else!" reiterated Pavel

Stepping further into the archway because of the impatience, Aroth looked around carefully. He was feeling more nervous. The Bell was still ringing like a raging beast and the armour still didn't react.

"It can't be far away! Maybe we really should..."

Just as Aroth was about to hypothesize, he felt a large blow on his head. The violence of


	4. Trapped and Forced

"Well played..." said Amon, accompanying his comment with the slowest clapping imaginable.

The stranger who had fallen on the 'team leader' was not moving yet. His heart still shaken by the sudden fall and the impact had left him dizzy. He had turned around in mid-air and landed on his back. Scratching his head as he tried to pull himself up, he asked confusedly.

"Ow... Did I fall on a rock or something ?"

"Of a sort. You fell on this particular blockhead, not that there is much damage that could be done to it." continued the naked man.

The body of Aroth of Carim was flat on his belly. His arms extended and his head buried in the water. Quite comical.

"What were you doing up there ?" Asked Alrof. The big man was biting his lips, obviously holding something in. Laughter ?

"I... I don't know... I didn't fall on that one on purpose. I swear to you. I awoke on that wall and walked out a coffin. How was I to know there was nothing around it ?"

The man was amber of skin, and with straight brown hair and an imperial styled beard. He had appeared out of thin air and right on Aroth's head. his buttock perfectly striking his neck and propulsing the knight's helmeted head on the ground.

Getting up with relative ease once his head had stopped spinning, the eastern man brushed off the dirt of his vestments by rote. He noticed immediately how unfamilar his equipment was. A turban with a metal plate, a thick leather chest-piece, simple bandage and half an iron gauntlet... Nothing as ellaborated as the comfortable garnements he had worn until now.

"What is the meaning of this ?"

"Well met hero of Fire. You have been called like the rest of this company. Though no posession of ours have remained, we are determined to reach safe haven that lies on the hills ahead." explained the young cleric, who had come closer to check on the knight's condition. Getting his skull out of the puddle, she noticed that he was still alive.

"Oh... Very well then. Is your friend alright ?"

Bending forward to knock on his brother's helm, Amon smiled as he gave his conclusion.

"Don't worry, he's just unconscious. There is no need for miracles; he simply needs a nice nudge and he'll be back on his feet. Feel free to have a hard go at him Alrof."

"Really ?"

"Really."

Aveny and Aroth lifted the knightUnhesitant, the brute removed the knight's helm, delicately. Raising a big and hairy hand towards the heavens, he whispered softly.

"Wake up O fearless Leader~."

A great slap reached the young man's left cheek. A second from the back of the hand landed on the right one. Then a third. Then a fourth.

After the fifth strike, Aroth raised his arms in defense.

"I'm up! I'm up! Cease!" he pleaded

His cheeks were already starting to swell and the two companions let go of him. The couragous Arklaw fell on his back this time. But the adrenaline formed from the pain was now fully coursing through his veins. The results ? Anger and confusion.

"How dare you... Unbelievable. What happened to me that necessitated such treatment ?"

"Our newest friend fell on ya. Alrof hadda wake you da hard way." explained Carra, her hand was covering her mouth and her speech was quite jerky.

Turning towards the newcomer, Aroth frowned at the one responsible for this embarasment.

"My name is Osadin Ser Knight. I truly must appologise." bowed the perpetrator.

Getting his hand on the fallen iron helm, and back on his feet, Aroth observed the situation. Seven of them were in the stone plaza. Volke, Pavel and Gyron were still outside the archway, probably looking out for the return of Hollows.

Carra was inside, trying to climb the walls without success. Apparently, the great door at the back of the plaza was locked.

Amon was enjoying the view from the cliff. Feigning innocence in the events that awoke him while Aveny and Alrof were smiling at the poor knight.

As for the yet unnamed assassin, he was now standing right next to the kneeling armour. Too close for comfort. This impetuous Ashen one expressed his boredom.

"That was all quite amusing, I'm sure... But can we focus on the bigger picture ? This bigger picture ?"

The other Undead went silent, goose-bumps could be felt as the reckless man approached the Abyss-infected wonder.

"He's not reacting yet ?" asked Aroth, having finally recovered and quickly afixing his helmet back.

Looking more closely to that behemoth, it was now obvious that he had been impaled by a sword. Of the same fabric and shape than the one that made the bonfire not too far from here.

"He has a Coiled Sword ? How ever did that occur ?" let out Aveny.

Impatient, the fencerturned his back on the group.

"Lets just get this over with." He sighed, and said to the armour: "Wake up, scabbard, your killers are here."

His arms reached for the embedded sword. And everyone else felt that was something that shouldn't be done.

"Wait!" screamed some of the assembly.

Too late. After removing it from the chest, the fearless butcher tried to ram the ginormous piece of metal in the enemy's uncovered throat. But he had miscaculated its weight, and the tip barely penetrated the opening.

As if freed by this particular act, the monster's eyes became red, and his body grew animated with life. Catching a slight fall with the left hand, he then casually grabbed the sword's twisted blade with his other appendage.

Stepping back a little, his liberator had unsheathed his estoc. He taunted the moving mesh of steel.

"Quite a heavy thing that was. Fufufu... Are you ready to bleed now ?"

"Retreat! You aren't as fast as you think!" yelled Amon.

"Speed is not my only..."

Before the scarred gentleman had finished protesting, the arena's champion had struck him with the removed sword directly. Like swinging the lightest of clubs. The sadist wasn't able to avoid the blow as his actions weren't fast enough. He was sent flying towards the giant's still opened grave. The assassin's back broke on the stone with a disgusting noise before he fell to the ground. Unmoving.

Letting go of the sword and grabbing the halbert on his right, the giant was now fully prepared for battle. Behind his targets, a cloth of dense fog had appeared. Blocking the only exit. The six remaining Undead were now trapped with this immeasurable being.

"He's a mean one!" screamed the freshly awakened swordsman, pulling two curved swords at the ready and entering a stance.

"Shut yer gob and fight!" answered Carra, already preparing her pyromancies.

Aroth and Alrof respectively headed to the right and left with their shields raised. Osadin and Aveny advanced slowly towards the strong foe. It was then that a first fire ball landed on the colossus' shoulder.

While the metal had melted a little, the affected being simply looked back before rushing suddenly at the young caster. His halbert raised high, he jumped before shoving his weapon vertically with great force, splitting the stone ground. Carra and rolled away from the blow and the rest of her comrades ran to the monster's back.

Iudex Gundyr, the great awakened warrior, was ready to welcome them to their death.

He quickly turned around with a strong swipe from his heavy pole. Aroth managed to block the blow and was sent back by the impact. Amon had ducked underneath. Aveny was too far to be struck and continued advancing. The move's momentum had left the giant open. But reaching out to his halbert, he was alredy preparing a seconf attack.

He had forgotten about Alrof however, the axeman chopped of a sizabble chunk of the giant's right side. The soft flesh now visible underneath.

Reacting to the threat, Gundyr went from his planned move to a lunge at Alrof. Which the bearded bruiser avoided thanks to his wooden shield. The assaillant followed the first strike by multiple stabs. Alrof's helmet shrugged off a strike while the sides of his armour opened up against the many angled incisions. Not good.

Carra had come from behind to use her axe. She sliced below the black spot on the back twice before the annoyed behemoth responded.

Using his strong legs to launch himself suddenly, the great judge blasted away the pyromancer with his melted shoulder. Sending her flying back and roll on the wet stones, right against the locked door. She puked her guts out from the strength of the attack. She would need time to recover and her foe would likely come to finish her.

"Don't get too close! Wear him down!" ordered Aroth.

Executing the order, those still standing spread out once again. The newcomer acted first to remove Carra from the monster's mind. Osadin only attacked once, aiming for the wound Alrof had inflicted. His twin swords found their mark and black blood painted the blades. He ran away as soon as he was done.

Gundyr had raised his halbert slowly, and he now sent it crashing with unimmaginable violence. Completely destroying the spot were Osadin would have been had he continued the assault. His nigh-unbreakable weapon became stuck on the stone for a brief second.

Taking advantage of the opening, the blue priestess sent down her steel mace on his knee. Successfully denting the metal. Amon added to the damage with another heavy attack. The knee was now starting to change form.

Stomping the ground as if to release a curse on his leg, Iudex Gundyr retook his detached stance and walked towards the nearest adversary, Aroth. If he had been damaged, he certainly wasn't showing it.

Aveny who had backed away from the unmovable fortress, was now near the assassin's body. Was he still alive ? She kneeled to check on him. Yes, there was still some life to him. Now she only had to place his spine in place and heal him.

Equipping her sacred bell and waving behind the ennemy's vision, she tried to convey her plan to the rest.

"Distract him for a bit!" shouted the Ardent combatant.

"Aye aye." responded the rest of the group.

It was then that three figured appeared from the behind the fog wall. They had decided to participate even though the group

"We had determined I shouldn't participate back at the bonfire... But you younglings sound like you need the assistance." explained Gyron as he launched three spells in a row from his simple staff.

Three arrows of blue light touched Gundyr in th head, heart and left arm. The agressive champion was annoyed by the bombardment. Running extremely fast, he braced himself before attempting a devastating horizontal strike.

It was thankfully stopped by Pavel's shield. The follower of the Way of White stumbled down because of the blow, and the attacker's halbert slipped forward into the stairs for he was unbalanced as well. Gyron ran away faster then an old man should be capable. But the giant didn't follow this weak prey because his weapon had become stuck between the carved rocks. It would need a bit of strength to pull out.

"Opening on the right side!" yelled Alrof to any of the trio while he rushed to their aid with Carra and Aroth.

The advice didn't fall on deaf ears. Passing under the stuck polearm in a smooth motion, the Withdrawn Volke equipped his sharp dagger. Now on the right side of his target, he plunged the short blade deep into the opened gap and ran around the struggling monster. This action allowed him to pull his weapon along and open the wound even more. Like a piece of paper being split by a nail. A great amount of blood spurted out as a result.

"Easy..." said the young thief without much enthusiasm.

Speaking thus so soon in the fight was a mistake. A big mistake. The enemy hadn't even taken notice of the damage. Truly he was an unfeeling beast with a warrior's might. And so very dangerous still.

Meanwhile, Aveny was still calling the gods to ease the unconscious fighter's sufferings. Once yet another illumination had been cast, she drank a bit from her blue Estus flask before continuing her mantras.

"O Sun, shine our path to victory." she whispered.

After a soothing light enveloped both of them, the new miracle proved enough. An angered Undead raised and placed his back against the hills. His motion partially restored, he could now drink the precious Estus Flask and soon join the struggle.

"Just you wait... I'm the Ruthless... I'll make you suffer..." he said, before indulging himself with the golden beverage.

Having removed his weapon from the stone stairs, at last, the armoured Judge of Ash enacted multiple swipes to force the group back into the middle of the Arena. Succeeding in injuring the knight's left shoulder and force him to drop his shield.

Focused while hidden behind two of the men, Carra had drank a bit of Estus to replace the liquids she had let out earlier. She now launched her second fireball with renewed energy.

A perfect hit. It landed right where Alrof, Osadin and Volke had landed effective blows.

"Gotcha ya rancid bastard!" she launched, triumphant.

Gundyr screamed in pain at the combination of those injuries, something he hadn't done until then. He rushed forward once again, posessed by purpose.

Although slower than before, a diagonal slash still forced the group to split in two. Flying rocks disturbed them, particularly Amon who was placed on the right of the strike.

A pebble to his grey eyes eye made him stop his movement for a short instant. A unavoidable shoulder bash pushed the deprived noble over the edge of the arena. He fell into the mists, his screams vanishing as the void absorbded him.

"Aaaaaaahh!"

Just like that, the ten Ashen ones were now nine.

Stunned by this loss, the rest of the group stopped in their track.

It was the red-haired goliath that roused them back to action.

"I'll rip off your arms and ram them down your throat! You bloody bastard!" shouted Alrof.

Empowered by rightful fury, Alrof's axe managed to reach the giant's left armpit. Driven by this rage, the others followed suit. A cleric's mace to the shattering leg forced the murderous giant to use his weapon as a temporary crutch. He wouldn't fall just yet.

A slower but more powerful arrow from the elder sorcerer landed on his chest. Scavenging his strength. Right after that, the herald's spear struck true. Right into the eye to complete the revenge. The enemy was faltering more and more.

Holding his bleeding right side with his left arm, Gundyr had let his injured keg opened for attacks once again. Alrof and Aroth successively struck the injured kneecap once again while Aveny's steel met the giant judge's helm. Taken off balance, the behemoth stumbled towards his own grave. One knee to the ground and trying to recover his breath.

This moment of weakness did not pass unpunished.

The restored assassin now had his mark's injured neck in sight. Right where he had aimed the bonfire's sword at the beginning. Undelayed by uncertainty, he plunged his estoc deep within the little opening. A prefect fit. He then pulled it out with all his strength in order to ravage what lied inside.

The powerful warrior fell hard on the ground in reaction to the great injury inflicted.

The beaten foe's movements, however, didn't stop here and then.

Arising in an unnatural fashion, the very air shook around him. Instinctively, eight of the Ashen warriors stepped back. Gyron kept launching spell out of habit. But what happened after made him stop and shudder.

The Iudex' body convulsed erratically. His melted left pauldron was suddenly swallowed by the dark matter that until then was just a little spot on his back. The black goo was growing, growing, growing, until a multitude of black appendages appeared from the opened armour. Twisting and slithering together until the true form of what had penetrated the Iudex showed itself.

A more sinister and more disproportionate being now stood before them all. Red eyes on a giant horned head, and the great halbert still held by a dislocated arm, their adversary was no longer human in shape. Unearthly sounds escaping its hungry mouth.

"THE ABYSS!" yelled the Steadfast lancer with terror penetrating his soul.

 _By the gods... It's not over..._ thought the Arklaw as he held his shoulder. The bleeding wasn't stopping.


	5. Last Judgement

"How much Estus left ?"

"One normal sip... But my faith is strong." answered a bald-headed lady, sweating heavily.

"I'm out." said a barbarious man whose thick clothes were scarred and falling in tatters.

"Ah got nothin'. No blue, no yellow." added another woman

"Take this... I can still fight." finished Osadin as he handed the blue flask Alrof had given him during the fight.

While Carra drank the precious liquid, Aroth cursed the events unfolding before them.

"Blast it all..."

Volke and the assassin were still engaging the possessed Judge. Showing admirable agility despite their weakened condition. But they would not injure the chaotic being as he was always moving any number of malformed limbs.

Closer to them, the body of the herald of the Way of White was slowly turning to ashes. Crushed to death by the beast's latest assault.

A small pile of dust was visible near the giant grave. Bloodstains on the rocky hills and dried roots were the only relics of an impaled sorcerer.

It was then that a powerful noise came from the battle. Iudex Gundyr had struck the walls and was now unmoving. Recovering strength ?

Instead of pressing the assault, the two skilled combatants retreated towards the group to converse. A wise decision since they needed to chose a new strategy.

"It's slower but stronger... The injuries remained... Victory is possible ?" explained the hooded youngster.

"This would be a triffle if I had my tools and magic. Accursed beast..." said the confident sadist between his breaths. Not fully recovered from his close encounter with death it would seem.

Aroth, still angered by the responsability of the scarred killer in awakening the horrible monstrosity so early, had to focus. He adressed the group while he took hold of a small sun-colored bottle.

"We have a bit of time. Any ideas ?"

Carra was the first to respond, blood from her forehead was covering her small crown.

"Member' when mah fire reached his side ? He screamed like a wee monkey. Ah say you distract him while I burn him to Ashes."

"No choice uh ? I'll try to cut off his arm. I say you finish his leg lady." answered Alrof, still motivated as his title would suggest.

Nodding at the axemam's suggestion, Aveny finished casting her very last miracle. She couldn't focus on her prayers any more, and speaking was an exhausting exercice now.

Drinking the last bit of Estus he had left, Aroth picked up his fallen shield.

"And I'll distract him... Good luck."

Freed from his earlier entanglement, Iudex Gundyr turned towards the scatterred group. The new heights of his form allowed him to peer upon the battlefield as he walked calmly towards its center.

A humongous black head reminiscent of a dragon was swaying left and right. His left arm had become bloated like the appendageof a feral beast. The lump of darkness covering his upper body weigted heavily on the armour's remnants. But he still advanced to strike the Ashen ones, just as casually as when the combat started.

It was then that the black entity jumped higher than ever before. Falling towards the knight the same way he had eliminated the late Pavel.

Just in time, Aroth rolled away in a praticed motion and raised his shield as he rushed towards the monster.

A new fire ball had come on the back of the Judge's newly formed head. he react like before. The wringling intensiffying and his arms losing focus for a moment.

Slashing the burning pus twice, Aroth stepped back to prepare for the horror's next move. At the same time, Alrof was hacking at the dangling arm from the left. Aveny hadn't reached the leg yet because the giant's demonic head came had lunged into the ground on his right, intent to crush her like her companion. The unnamed fighter and the young Volke were puncturing the abomination's softened back zealously, going along with Osadin continuous slashes on the big furry arm.

All of a sudden, as if starting a dance, Gundyr twirled around and the strength of his weighty limbs repelled the surrounding warriors. Except for Volke who had ducked in time.

 _Stay back after you struck once!_ Wanted to yell the would-be leader. But the Iudex's halbert had struck Aroth at the same time the Abyss had swept the others. This creature was indeed slower, but capable of multi-tasking.

Relentlessly, the hooded rogue, kept stabbing at any opening he could find. jumping on the beast's bck to find new angles to perforate. Supporting himself with his free arm on one of the monstrosity's horn.

But he saw the error of his way here and then. The thick black substance was now covering his left arm and pulling him slowly into Gundyr's body. His right hand too was being swallowwed by the abyssal body. He was too late to escape and couldn't move any limbs now, completely trapped to become one with the Pus of Man.

Aveny, fast on her feet, tried to liberate the thief by pulling him with all she had. A giant hairy arm caught the cleric before she could finish her move. Crushing her bones as she screamed in pain.

Carra tried to chop off the arm with her hand-axe and free her comrade, but Gundyr simply used Aveny as a club. And didn't miss his target. Rolling a long distance, the pyromancer almost fell off the cliff as Amon did before her. Stopping her body a mere centimetre away. She wasn't standing up however, letting her arms dangling on the edge.

The monster was now ignoring her once again, focusing on crushing the opposition. Such as the Zealous Aveny in his claws. And so the heartless monster pressed harder on her soft ribs.

Just as the life was leaving the Sun-blessed Lady, an fiery explosion occured that shook the destroyer to his very core. On his back, a huge amount of darkness had been blown away from within. Right where the young thief was starting to merge. The young man was now falling from Gundyr's shouder, crippled.

Volke's right arm had been greatly injured by the detonation. The bones were visible and two fingers had disappeared. What did he do ?

At any rate, the effect was great. The horror was deeply affected and had released his young preys. Catching his fall with the armoured parts he had left, he still crushed the fallen Volke with his gigantic appendage. The motion bending his nightmarish shape even more. Our Withdrawn hero faded into dust under the claws of the beast.

Alrof and Aroth, with the fading amount of might they could muster, took their weapons with both hands. Heading towards the wringling behemoth. Unwavering from the loss. They had come too far now, and their companions' sacrifices would be honored.

As if having praticed together for an eternity, they escaped the lunging head of the furious being by dodging to both sides. They did not let the opportunity fade away. Striking, raising the arms and striking again, the neck of the beast was thinning under the two men's assault like the trunk of a tree placed under the steel of two woodsmen.

The afflicted Gundyr wouldn't let this continue. Raising his halbert with his almost dismembered arm, he prepared to chop off their heads. But an estoc plunged into his elbow denied him this action. The red eye of another Ashen warriors peering into one of his eyes.

"I don't think so." said the yet unknown assassin. Tormenting the soon-to-be-dead fiend.

Running from behind, the recovered Osadin used the opening to finally cut off the last bit of flesh that connected the arm. He used a rotation to use his twin blades in a row, and his momentum successfully separated the rotten flesh and bones. Thus the armoured arm fell, still holding the metal polearm.

With the very last once of power they had, the two Undead on the other side struck true one last time. Finally separating the serpent-like head from the rest of the great warrior's body. Alrof shouted to the heavens as he reveled in the great achievment.

The dark decapited fiend regressed back into the Iudex's armour. Like a viper retreating into a cave. The remainder of the Pus of Man followed suit.

Having returned to his original form, the Judge of Ash fell on his battered knees and collapsed like a stringless puppet. His strength finally depleted. He turned to ashes as he hit the ground of the stone plaza. And the victorious warriors broke down just as well. It was over.

A huge amount of souls penetrated the survivors. It felt like a warm weight on their shoulders, a soft cloth applied on their minds.

The wind was all they could hear in the otherwise silent graveyard. For a moment.

Breathing strongly at the air that surrounded them, as i freshened by the great feat, the leather bound man with a gash over his eye spoke joyfully.

"Fuhuhuhu... Ahahaha! Wery well done ladies and gents! My name is Kieran if you wondered. Ruthless Kieran. God-killer and the most proficient murderer of the ages. I must admit, you people where very entertai..."

An armoured fist to the jaw stopped the sadist's speech. Aroth brush off his gauntlet as if it had been dirtied by the deed. Removing his battered helm and looking at the confused fallen Undead, he spit on the ground and commented as such:

"Never heard of you."

"And you better hope I never do." Added Alrof. Who also added a kick in the gut. "Crazy scumbag..."

A coarse cough enraptured Kieran as he held his belly in response. Recovering after a short bit, he responded.

"Alright... Fine... I have been hasty... Removing the sword for sports was unwarrated. I must apologize. "

Osadin came between the three men with bare open hands. He had removed the bloodied turban and revealed his long brown hair.

"Calm yourselves please... I must also take responsability for forcing you into this situation."

"Hurm... You didn't mean to."

The four men watched each other in silence. Now wasn't the time for disput. Later. Around them, Carra and

"What now Aroth ?" aked Alrof the Ardent.

Watching the immobile women bathing in a growing pool of their blood and his injured comrades, Aroth the Arklaw sighed.

"Do any of you have some Estus left ? We need to help the survivors." inquired .

"I have nothing left..." said the easternling.

"Same here." continued Alrof

"I have sadly gone over my ressources." said the assassin with an empty flask in hand.

"Then we need to go back to the bonfire, and fast."

Just as the group was heading towards the archway, the swordsamn interrupted them.

"Excuse me ?"

"Yes ? Remind us of your name please ?"

"Osadin... Was this bonfire here before ?"

Right in the middle of the circle was now a new bonfire.

"No... That's new."

"It is not from the coiled sword, it has been transfered to me. As well as the very Soul of this being. He was named Gundyr apparently."

Indeed, the red weapon and dark-tainted soul were now in the hands of Aroth. The stone sword was smaller than when it was embedded in the late Gundyr. This adaptation proved the great weapon had been soul-bound to the young knight.

"You must have finished him off before me. you're quite lucky." commented Alrof with a slight smile.

Kieran stepped up to explain.

"Oh, it is quite normal. Great beings that have lost their calling remain in areas endowed with bonfires to prevent interaction. Effectively block the progress of Chosen Undead until they are defeated. It is, lets say, a new rule of this world. As to why that beast had directly become a scabbard, I have no idea."

"At any rate, carry the survivors over while I light this bonfire."

Slowly, colors were returning to the priestess and pyromancer bodies. The fumes from the bonfire granting everyone of them strength and filling their flasks.

"You really haven't heard of me ?" asked the Ruth Kieran to the recovering company.

"Why do you even care ? An assassin is supposed to remain unknown."

"Not if he needs more employers. But yes, I shouldn't really care."

"Oh there brother!" resonnated a new voice

"Amon ? So you can return. And you haven't lost your sanity from this death."

"I am true to myself and the Curse holds not much over me, I was unliving for but a moment. I see you finished things here..."

Advancing towards the edge were he had been casted away to his death, Amon seemed to reincorporate a part of himself.

"You recovered your souls ?" asked Alrof.

"I have... I suppose you're happy I couldn't collect souls to make up for my lack of equipement."

"No, I realise now that we need your strength to survive this journey, brother."

Glad to hear this confession, Amon sat at the bonfire.

Reinvigorated by the healing properties of the mystical site, Carra emerged from her slumber.

"Did we win ?" she asked immediately.

"Aye. Your flames struck true, you must have some dragon blood in you."

"That's real dumb 'cause mah pyromancies come from mah heart but thanks fer da compliment big man. How's Aveny ?"

The bones of the blue-clad cleric were slowly putting themselves back in place. She still had blood on her lips from when she was grasped.

"Still alive, let the bonfire help."

"Other casualties ?" asked Amon.

It was Kieran once again who answered in length.

"See for yourself. The Abyss took over the monster after we pushed it to a corner. We lost master Gyron right then. Then after a long struggle, Pavel was crushed below his shield. Volke took a great blow after damaging the beast, I don't know how he managed it... Maybe some hidden pyromancies ? At any rate... The young thieve didn't survive his little feat."

"They should return here soon, and we'll know. it's a shame not everyone could procure a part of this warrior's soul."

Finishing the story, Gyron arrived at the bonfire, just as Aveny returned to her sense. The elder one said:

"I destroyed some Hollows on the way. But my hope is that my sorceries did some damage to contribute to the victory."

Amon, courtuous, engaged a slight bow before answering in earnest.

"They did, i don't think we would have lasted this long without the weakening you forced unto the fiend. Thank you master Gyron."

Pleased with the compliment, the old sage took place around the burning bones.

After much more was said, a lone figure entered the area. Withdrawn Volke and Pavel had returned. Pavel's armour had been restored recovered

"You're here..." commented the hooded teenager.

Pavel explained his lateness with the passive tone he had used before the many embarassing events. Such as kissing Carra, being punched in return, and later being crushed to death after slipping on the water.

"I waited for you some of you to return to the bonfire. But since Master Gyron was gone, I hesitated. I must now say, well met friends. I'm sorry I wasn't of much use. The Abyss and I are... We do not have a good history..."

"Neither do you have one with water i wager. But the Sun has brought you back to us. Come rest a while friend." answered Aveny

Finally seated at the second bonfire, the ten companions discussed what had happened.

"So... Volke was it ? How did you make this abomination explode ?" demanded Aroth.

"Firebomb. Looted from a corpse when I woke up." he monotonously explained

Pavel remembered how the tatooed thief had secured something from a soul-infused corpse back on the cliffside.

"What did you do with it ?" he wondered out loud.

"Arm stuck in Abyss. But bombs were ready. I summoned them and the dark crushed them without noticing."

Aveny explainded for those who had died before this happened.

"He had been entangled by the Abyss and couldn't move his limbs. He saved me and allowed the beast to be slain. The Sun has shined through his deed! Let It, and him, be praised!"

While Aveny praised the Sun intensively, with the official stance of true worshippers, the middle-aged lancer bowed in reverence to Volke.

"You have great courage young man. I thank you for saving this group." he said with humility.

"Am used to dying. Nothing to lose. Is all..." simply responded Volke, scratching his hooded head.

Carra looked perplexed upon seing this follower of the Way of White bowing to a formerly hollowed Undead. Witch hunters and Hollow-Hunter were both from the cult. But it was Aveny that was truly confused.

"Volke ? Why have you removed your chainmail."

"The wind is nice..."

"Oh, the wind. Then can you feel the Sun too ?"

"Hot... But wind is better."

Amon joined the conveersation.

"I concur with our servant of the our magnificent Father, the Sun has never been quite enamoured with me, but I grew to like it since I've been deprived."

"He's right, my child. Do not say the wind feels better until sunlight it has permeated your being. Praise it with me! Praise!"

While Amon and Aveny emoted their appreciation of the celestial body, the rest kept silent, observing the situation unfold. Aroth wondered how his brother-in-law could have become so amicable.

Gyron mumbled something about being he wasn't unable to acquire more souls to put in his sorceries. Despite having been convinced to wait earlier this day.

Carra indulged herself in the sight of Amon and Volke's bodies. She even giggled when Alrof's left nipple, exposed by Gundyr's strikes, came into her view.

"Alrof ? Did ya rest at da bonfire. Yer clothes are..."

"Oh ? I forgot about that. Hold on." responded the bearded goliath as he sat down for the first time in a while.

Cursing her blunder, Carra looked saddened as the exposed skin of the muscular warrior disappeared behind the heavy chainmail. She then decided it was time to focus.

"Right... All's great an' all... Now that everyone's here, can we move on ? Ah want ta see what's in the huge building and I don't care if there's more armoured monsters."

Standing up and placing his helmet back on once again, Aroth nodded.

"Let us depart then. Alrof, can you assist me ?"

"Got it..."

Aroth and Alrof opened the great gates. Slowly revealing the

More gravestones, and a few sleeping Hollows. There was still more to be done before they reached the sanctuary. but the biggest obstacle would be the slope for those battle-hardened veterans.

"I recognise the building now that we're close." said Kieran.

"You do ?" asked Amon.

Extending his arms to make the others behold his epiphany, the assassin proclaimed:

"Clear your wet eyes, good companions, for we will soon arrive at Firelink Shrine!"


	6. Scaterred Ashes and Broken Shield

A sorcerer, a thief, a lancer, and a naked man, were discussing outside a big wooden door. The naked man said:

"Why should you be the one to cut their throats ?"

"I have earned the smallest amount of souls out of any of the group. Then there is the fact that my spells can destroy them from a distance. Furthermore, you should respect your elders." answered the blue-bearded sage, whose temper was worsening from frustration.

The Hollows on the hill were for the most part sleeping. And so a good source of soul for their future killer. The four had started the discussion mere moments ago but were already quarrelling.

"I have the least among you... I think..." responded Volke

"Oh. That I can admit." concurred the scholar.

"Yes indeed. If anyone deserve to earn more souls, it should be young Volke. His sacrifice deserves recognition." solemnly proclaimed the Steadfast Pavel.

"On that we can agree. But who should join him ? You and the lizard's soul ?" retorted Amon to the calm lancer.

"A soul that was shared between four of our group. It will not produce a significant power on our road to recovery." riposted the herald with a calm demeanor.

Volke, bored with the dispute left the group as he said:

"I don't mind... Can kill things later..."

"As you wish. Then it should be me and... Perhaps..." continued Pavel.

Another figure joined the conversation from beyond the stone walls.

"Perhaps I can clear the way too ? I only just arrived and you need to see what I can do." proposed the well-mannered Osadin who had been silent since the defeat of Iudex Gundyr. Amon was the first to respond.

"No. If you were allowed to participate, then anyone else would deserve to clear the way and obtain additional boonty. Unacceptable. But yours truly have not received a speck of decent equipment, I should have a chance to find more on those hills. That corpse's broken sword won't do." Waving the newest item on the others faces, Amon's argument was logical.

While Osadin retreated back into silence, the herald had taken a pensive stance.

"I remember you were awakened before us and had hunted down numerous Hollows without our presence." said Pavel thoughtfully.

Upon hearing this, a giant red-haired man interrupted the exchange. His axe placed on a metal-plated shoulder.

"I remember that. Speaking of which, didn't you give us your items afterwards ?"

"I did." confessed the poor noble.

"Items ? Which items ?" inquired the Ruthless Kieran who also joined along with the rest of the Ashen ones.

Among the new arrivals, revelation engulfed a young knight. His sense of honour forced him to admit his mistake.

"Gods... He means those."

Placing his hand over the ground, multiple soul-bound objects appeared at everyone's feet.

"Bombs... Souls... A broken sword... A bell..." observed Volke, altogether unmoved.

"Why didn't you use the explosives ? None of us might have perished had you shared what you had." Asked Amon, not particularly angered by the mistake.

"I... Forgot about them... I have no excuse."

"What!" screamed half of the group.

"Well that's awkward." commented Alrof

Furious, the pyromancer assaulted the forgetful knight with harsh words and inflamed actions.

"Ya had those the whole time ya manky excuse of a knight!"

She kicked the team-leader right between his legs.

Thankfully, the knight's armour dampened the blow. Just enough not to lose face. Alrof had stepped in to separate them, but Aroth raised a hand to signal it was alright.

"I'm not used to their employ. Normally, I only rely on my aptitudes and my weapons. I am deeply sorry to have forgotten about them. I shall share them with you and add more from what I personally collected. That is the right thing to do." he explained. Visibly ashamed of his lack of foresight.

"Aroth Aroth Aroth... You're too straightforward for your own good..." commented his brother-in-law will shaking his marked head.

Firstly, extending his right hand, Volke stared intently at the knight. But not from anger. It had been clear when he hadn't reacted earlier. Understanding, Aroth passed every piece of explosive he had to his Withdrawn friend. It was hard to tell because of the thief's mask, but Aroth was quite sure the youngster was smiling brightly. He could see it in the wrinkles forming around Volke's bright eyes.

Secondly, distributed the less physical items. Souls for those who had perished. Pavel refused, given he already acquired one after they had rescued Aveny. And the two women, though unconscious at the time, had received Gundyr's souls as well.

And thirdly, he gave the bell for Aveny.

"I can't cast miracles from two medium sadly, but I gladly accept it and forgive your error, noble knight."

Ths latest encouragment soothed the wound on Aroth's own soul. But Carra wasn't done making things difficult.

"Y'all gonna stand there until someone else lights da Fire ? Just let Gyron do his thing while Witch-hunter Pavel protects him."

"I am called Steadfast." protested the assaulted lancer.

"Shut it Steadslow, get goin'."

The spear-wielder obeyed, miffed. Gyron, a bit confused, joined him to discuss their strategy.

Now that Aroth had lost part of his leadership, Carra's strong character was taking over the group. Amon, charismatic, noble, and still naked, tried to ease the situation while the newly formed duo prepared to leave.

"I would advise you calm yourself miss Carra. We are almost at the Shrine. Kieran, can you confirm it is the same Firelink Shrine that had sheltered Champions since time immemorial ?"

"I am quite certain. It is the safest haven you can imagine fuhuhu... An immortal blacksmith and some rich handmaiden were present last time I visited."

"Then I propose me and Volke return to the first bonfire to check anything out of place, we might gain more souls in the process. Thus, we would have currencies to spare should any trading occur once inside."

"Nah... Ya'll stay right here 'till those two are finished."

"But..." protested Amon.

"Want me ta fry yer loincloth whitey ?" smilled the pyromancer.

Something in the perverted eyes of the green-haired lass was unsettling. And her pyromancy flame had begun dancing on her hand. Holding the small piece of cloth instinctively, Amon retreated.

"I grew quite attached to it... Understood, I shall await another opportunity."

"Good, now I want you to... OWWWW!"

Aveny had come behind her and grabbed the burning hand. Forcing it on her spine and successfully locking the young fire-bender in a painful position.

"Now now my dear companion, violence is not the answer." said the shaved and beautiful lady in a sweet voice and with innocence in the eyes.

"Ah give up! Ah give up! Stop!"

"Look at the Sun, shining silently as our mind waver, it doesn't stop sharing his boon. And so I swear on my title of Zealous that I shall protect his peace."

Raising her only free hand in prayer to the Sun, Aveny was still holding Carra. Tears were forming in the captives' green eyes and she was beginning to shake under her robe. This spectacle was a bit comical, but Pavel prayed seriously in appreciation of the lady's benevolent action.

 _Did you earn this title, or did you give it to yourself ?_ thought Aroth.

Releasing Carra after more apologies, Aveny returned to Alrof and Volke's side.

The pyromancer, still a bit excited by the events joined Osadin and Kieran to seek new points of view. Meanwhile Pavel and Gyron departed to the hill.

Approaching his brother, Aroth handed over very small orbs that shined dimly.

"You can have more souls Amon, I am sorry for the trouble."

"Would you care to repeat ?"

"You can have the souls we took from you earlier at the crossroad. You need them for now."

"Of course, but what did you say right before that ?"

"... I am sorry... Do not get comfortable with my temperance, Exile, it will merely last until we reach Firelink Shrine. There, I shall freely reveal our history."

"Eheh... So I hear." answered the black-haired deprived joyously.

Immensely satisfied at the exchange, Amon accepted the offering and sitted on another gravestone. The old sorcerer and the brave herald were rising slowly on the slight slope as he closed his tired eyes.

Getting rid of the two aware Hollows near the cliff on their left, Pavel and Gyron started conversing.

"Have you left the Dragon School as a young sorcerer master Gyron ?" asked Pavel.

"No, after I was abandoned on the steps of the school, (not a rare thing mind you), I left once I had learned as much as I could. I wasn't a gifted student, but I was most stubborn. And I still am."

"Must I assume your journey to Link the Fire was the only time you ever travelled the world."

"What makes you say that ?"

"An intuition. I met my share of old cloistered folk."

"Arumpf... I have to admit, the outside world wasn't what I thought it would be."

The outside world... Just how old was he before he left the School ? That was the thought of Pavel as he pierced the throat of an barely awakened Hollow.

They were making good progress. Apart from a skeletal canine on the right side, they had no trouble securing passage. They were now on the left side and had fought off an ambush. A wooden shield was the prize waiting on the unmoved body of an Undead. Fallen on the branch of a tree.

"This shall be a nice gift for Amon, most likely."

"Not much different from young Aveny's blue one. Only the colours differ."

There were two paths left unexplored. The one on the right was the point of origin of the attackers. The one on the left led to a tower.

They choose to head for the tower.

Over a small set of stairs, a lone figure loomed over the approaching duo. It was an old looking man with his long grey hair banded on the back of his head.

He had the same skin color as Osadin but not the same physyology; wrinkled on every nooks of his body but still very muscular. His garments, however, were his most striking aspect. He was wearing a terribly worn shirt who left his right side completely open to the elements. A loincloth that was turning to tatters was the only piece protecting his vital parts. Similar to the garb of a certain noble downhill.

But other than that, the wrinkled body of the stranger was in good health and his piercing eyes seemed full of life. He wasn't Hollow nor mad apparently.

"Could this be Amon's father ? Hohoho..." proposed Gyron as a jest.

The old warrior in tattered rags kept silent as they approached. He had a sword in hand, thin and slightly curved, of great length. It was a good-looking blade, though not particularly elaborated. Pavel advanced on the stairs to salute this new gentleman. Saying:

"Greetings. Were you awakened by a b..."

Without other warning, the poorly dressed blade-master rushed to meet them. Not in a friendly mannerism. An initial thrust from the sword caught Pavel off guard and tore off a part of his chestplate. Red blood was now leaving his body from the opening on his ribs. But the powerful swordsman didn't stop there and enacted a flurry of slashes against the intruders.

Pavel struggled against the strength of the blows, instinctively riposting with a jab from his spear. But the strike only cut through the empty air each time.

Gyron, who couldn't target the man with Pavel in the way, pulled out a tiny estoc and tried to backstab the opponent.

As if possessing eyes on his back, the lone combatant turned his chest to avoid the pointy piece of metal, and punched Gyron with a powerful jab. Leaving the old man with a bloody noise and falling on his

Placing his curved sword back in its scabbard, Pavel hoped for an moment that the man would halt his hostility. But in fact. The herald barely reacted in time and raised his shield.

His iron shield had been almost cut in two and he was now unbalanced. Gyron, now that the two warriors had become separated, cast his spell immediately in order to help his partner.

Dodging the mystical arrow with a small step to the left, the swordsman didn't pursue his assault. Frowning and pointing his katana at the sorcerer, he finally uttered words.

"Begone with you. I shall serve only those who may best me. Your assistance sullies my oath."

The man's voice was harsh and full of power. He had integrated a great number of souls it would seem. Victory was impossible, and the mature herald was well aware. Getting back on his feet and holding his wounded side, he responded thusly:

"Then we must apologise for our trespassing, master of the blade. We are not ready for combat as of yet. Will you let us leave ?"

Silently walking away, the old sword-saint retreated back up the stairs, leaving the stunned invaders to their thoughts.

Using his small talisman, Pavel prayed for a short time. An small light surrounded his body as his plea was answered. His bleeding had stopped. Just to be safe, a drank a bit of Estus to fully recover.

"Let's not go that way. At least until our full strength is restored."

Gyron wasn't very reassured at the idea of leaving a deadly duelist in the area.

"Can you be certain the man won't chase us to kill every member of our group ?"

"Then we would all be dead no matter what. Let us finish exploring before giving our report. I need a new shield however, and I can't risk damaging our gift to Amon."

"Take mine then, you'll need it."

Handing a small leather-covered shield to the herald, Gyron equipped his staff on the left hand while still holding his fencing dagger on the right. The two resumed their adventure.

At the bottom of the hill, things had become quieter. Bloomseer Carra was practicing using her little flame to clear the rot on drying roots. Alrof and Aroth were patrolling to watch for wandering Hollows. Amon, Kieran and Volke were sleeping while Osadin and Aveny conversed.

"I hope the others will come to appreciate me. My abilities are not below theirs."

"We simply need to reach a calm place so that we may share everything we know in piece. Or at least until we find a kind soul to explain the state of things."

"I understand, of course."

"Might I suggest a session of sun-praising to bring a warmth to your heart good traveller ?"

"Show me how to proceed exactly."

Marvelled at the idea, the young cleric, clad in her sky-blue robe, taught her companion the correct stance to employ. They were repeatedly practicing it when the two explorers returned.

"Well met good fellowship. We have news." expressed Pavel.

"What is your report ?" asked Aroth

"We secured samples of souls and cleared the way to the building. Thank you for the opportunity. there is no door on the entrance but we could feel how sanctuous it is."

"However..." interrupted the old master, "There is a dangerous swordsman outside of the shrine. So we should just take shelter and look if there is a bonfire."

"Very well then. Wake the others, we move out at one." ordered the Arklaw.

Without complaint from any of the group, ten Champions of Fire departed. Silently advancing up the slope of the grave-ridden hill, they reached the sanctity of the Firelink Shrine where a dim light could be seen.

The Ashen Ten entered the great construct, and all could marvel at the wonders therein.


	7. Answers and Confusion

The air was fresh and slightly aromated. The entrance had led them directly into an immense circular lobby. Everywhere they looked, lit candles illuminated the sweet darkness. In front of them and along two other set of steps the were five stone thrones. All vacant except for one where a smaller man sitted peacefully.

A great quantity of ashes was disseminated on the different flights of stairs, but the greatest amount was scattered in a great layer around a chalice at the very center of the chamber. This great broken bowl was filled with dust and broken bones, reminiscent of a bonfire's burning mound.

Standing in front of it was a young ashen-haired woman, dressed in a beautiful black robe. Stained manchettes covered her whittened arms and her legs laid hidden beneath a long skirt. Most noticeably was the magnificent crown that covered her eyes. She was beautious and calmly following the group's arrival with her head despite her blinding affliction.

The ten men and women walked down the stairs separatedly; either from the set on the right of the set on the left. Those that departed left reached the bottom and sat wherever they could. The soft ashes cushioning their Undead bodies. Those that went to the other side had stopped when encountering a seated stranger.

The man was lightly armoured, grave of face and not very reactive as he watched the group close in on his resting place. A great sword was on his back but the man made no move to draw it. Aroth, who was among them, was the first to greet this silent observer.

"Greetings."

"Ah yes... You're here... In very great numbers. It would seem desperation has grasped the world, at long last. You must be the ones responsible for that great ruckus of late."

He was probably referring the the gradually violent bell tolls that had summoned the ten adventurers. The lackluster speech kept exiting his throaty mouth.

"And now that you've been roused from the sleep of death, do you believe great numbers will give you more chances in your endeavours ? More Ashes to the winds. That's all."

"You know of the purpose behind our awakening ? Please share what you know." asked Pavel.

Shrugging in annoyance, the man responded plainly.

"Once the bell tolls, you must rise and seek embers. To complete yourselves. And there is no ember greater than those from a Lord of Cinder. This is our impossible purpose."

The others had passed before the young blind woman to join the conversation. She patiently let them walk past her. They had heard the speech and now the Learned Gyron asked the questions.

"'A' Lord of Cinder ? As in multiple ones ?"

"There are many, and we must seek them all. An impossible task if you ask me... We Unkindled are worthless. Can't even die right. What makes them think we may kill our betters..."

"Unkindled ?"

"So many questions... Why are you so ignorant ? Oh well... Simply put, Unkindled ones have failed to nourish the Fire, and were reduced to ash in return for that worthlessness. You all share the same scent, can't you feel it ?"

The memories of the painful process was still etched deeply into some of the assembly. And indeed, they felt a kinship between this discouraged warrior and the new fellowship of Ashes. The long-haired mistress listened silently to this exchange.

"Arising from our graves to link the Fire once more. They ask us to seek the Lords of Cinder, and return them to their moulding thrones." continued the man.

Depression struck the man who bent his back a little more as if the weight of his words could be felt on his shoulders.

"But we're talking true legends with the mettle to link the fire. Their power far surpasses the likes of us no matter how many come for them. The highlight of our lives was when we burned and dusted off in pain. None of us are even fit to lick their boots. Don't you think?"

The man chuckled painfully. What manner of story lied behind his grim persona ? The group was now whispering among themselves, trying to make sense of the situation. Among them, the young cleric smiled and approached the crestfallen stranger.

"O fallen warrior, do not despair yet. Please observe as we fight against our fates. With us are the heroes of ages past. The weakening of our Unkindled souls will not shatter our determination." proposed Aveny with a silent prayer.

The man seemed puzzled by the speech.

"Our weakening, is it ? What an odd thing to say. Do as you wish. It's not like i aim to stop you. Hahaha..."

They'd better leave the man be for now... And the young woman seemed eager to converse with the group now.

Slowly rising her arm, she called out, inviting everyone to join her. Completely silent until every last person had come closer.

"Welcome to the bonfire Unkindled Ones. I am a Fire Keeper. I tend to the flame, and tend to thee. The Lords have left their thrones, and must be deliver'd to them. To this end, I am at thy side."

That coincided with what the sad man had shared. She continued

"The Lords have shirk'd their duty and would let the Fire fade forevermore. Thine purpose is to travel to their beloved lands and force them back unto their purpose. As true Lordseekers."

"This is our true calling." said Aroth by rote, enamored by this new purpose.

Pavel, Osadin, Alrof and Aveny's chests swole with strength in response. Carra and Kieran smirked slightly, while Gyron, Volke and Amon remained unmoved by the calling.

The Firekeeper nodded gracefully in response. Extending the hand towards the broken vessel, she addressed the young knight.

"Produce the coiled sword at the bonfire.

Producing the blade on his hand, Aroth plunged it into the chalice. As it pierced the ashes, flames emerged from the bones. A new bonfire lit, its essence reinvigorating the adventurers. The Firekeeper continued.

"The mark of ash will guide thee to the land of the Lords. To Lothric, where the homes of the Lords converge."

Lothric. For a few among them, the name was familiar, for others, it was an unknown land whose history they didn't know.

Closing his eyes, a new feeling

"This feeling... Tis the same I have felt upon receiving the Lordvessel so long ago. I can see a new land in the flames, a place that calls out within another Shrine. This bonfire will lead us over to the great citadel whenever we choose."

This was a great news. A new area and now that they had a place to call home, they could properly train and go their separate ways.

Amon, still naked and grabbing everyone's attention, addressed the lady with reverence.

"Milady, are you entitled to lead wandering souls within us ?"

"Thou wishes to harness their strentgh ? Very well."

Alrof sat placed his knee on the ground first. He invited those that didn't understand why to imitate him. The ignorants including Aroth, Gyron and Pavel. Bowing to the assembly, the Shrine maiden confirmed her intention.

"Then touch the darkness within me. Take nourishment from these sovereignless souls."

The ten Ashen ones were now on their knees around the fair maiden. When she came to them, they extended a hand to receive her precious service. She produced a dim light in-between. Little sparks of black and white were passing between her and the supplicant.

She started chanting quietly as the souls permeated the Unkindled ones.

"Let these souls, withdrawn from their vessels,

Manifestations of disparity,

Elucidated by fire,

Burrow deep within me,

Retreating to a darkness beyond the reach of flame.

Let them assume a new master,

Inhabiting ash, casting themselves upon new forms."

When it was done. All arised with renewed energy. They had chosen how this power would manifest itself and were eager to put it to use. They formed small groups to discuss what they would do now.

Aroth the Arklaw had joined Steadfast Pavel with Ardent Alrof. The Lawless Amon was seated over them, listening quietly.

"Pavel ?" commenced the young knight.

"What is it ?"

"This fantastical swordsman, can you tell us more ?"

"He explained he was waiting for someone to defeat him in single combat. And that he would offer his services to the one able to best him. His clothes were so damaged, I am unsure as to what that implies. If he either fought for an immeasurable amount of time, with his attire opening with every landed strike, or if he abandoned his roots and equipped whatever he could find."

"And what do you believe ?" asked Amon.

Producing his splintered iron shield on his hand. The storyteller added:

"This is his work. Steel is nothing to this man, and his speed is unmatched. Even though I was weakened, i cannot possibly imagine the man being defeated in a duel. He must be ancient and truly powerful if he succeeded in to traversing the ages with the same armaments."

Returning the broken slab of iron to his inventory, he addressed the naked man overhead.

"Which reminds me... Ser Amon ?"

"Yes ?"

From his inventory, Pavel retrieved the wooden shield he and Gyron the Learned had found earlier.

"Please accept this meager shield. It should prove more resilient than a mere plank of rotten wood."

"I humbly accept, herald. And Aroth, you wish to face this swordsman I wager."

"I'll see if he can be raisonned with. If not, I would have taken the measure of the man at the very least."

Shrugging, Amon returned to his silent observation of the party.

"I'll go with you little knight. I want to see what kind of man is ready to kill people just to protect them later." said Alrof.

"He must have hoarded numerous souls in his long life. Let me come along." demanded Kieran the assassin.

 _Is this a good idea to let them join ?_ wondered Aroth.

While losing Alrof was something they shouldn't risk too eagerly, there was no reason to stop this reckless wretch of a man rush to his death. His lust for souls and blood would naturally lead him to overreach and be cut down. He would be good as canon fodder to observe the swordsman's skill.

But another swordsman yearned for the opportunity as well.

"Let me accompany you." said the now bare-faced Swift Osadin.

"Osadin... Are you certain you wish to face such a foe ?" inquired Pavel.

Placing his hand on the hilts of his two swords, the easterling replied.

"I can't turn down this new challenge, else I no longer deserve to be called 'Swift'. As a man of the blade, I can feel the Hunt's call."

"The Hunt uh ?" repeated Aroth pensively.

It was then that the strangeness of the simple word seemed to confuse the swords-wielding Undead. As if Aroth had been the one to introduce it.

"Umh ? What hunt ?" demanded Osadin.

"You just said it. What's wrong ?" asked Alrof, perplexed.

To which the interrogatee responded:

"Strange, I was certain I wanted to say battle. I think I... I think..."

Honestly perplexed, Osadin crossed his arms in thoughts. Balancing his head to the left as if to make his thoughts fall into place.

He thought a long moment about what he had said. He was a soft-spoken man that thought deeply before opening his mouth. All the more reason why the blunder in his speech was odd. But after a while, the silence felt too heavy to bear for the strong axeman.

"Who cares about some words. We're keeping the man waiting. Let's go already."

And so they departed, leaving the matter in the air.

As they went to the right upon exiting the Shrine, Kieran immediately recognised the sight far in the distance.

"Look. This mountain... is that Lothric ? Some great force shifted it skyward it would seem."

"Hmm..., that is quite a sight. It reminds me of the walls of Anor Londo. Those towers are... interesting." commented Aroth

"Hey, Pavel, you didn't mention the view." noticed Alrof.

As usual, Pavel monotonously explained:

"My apologizes, I didn't pay great attention to it. I was trying not to look left, the ground isn't exactly stable where we are headed..."

"You scared of heights ?" asked Alrof cheerfully.

"I fear not the altitude, but the fall does frighten me... I focus on the path ahead, that is all."

Alrof advanced passed the Steadfast servant of the Way of White, giggling quietly. It is uncertain whether he believed the excuse. At any rate, the path was kept by four Hollows this time, still clad in long robs and equipped with rusty weapons.

A scratching on a red beard and four separate hackings were all that was needed to clear the way. At last, the goal was in sight.

The stairs were in bad shape, as expected from the ravages of times. The edge of the cliff was closing in on the walls which forced a group to stay on the right. But the legendary swordsman was in the same place as earlier, immovable as the strongest mountain.

He looked like the poorest of the poor with those little scraps of cloth. But the muscles he possessed and the way he carried his blade told tales of his hidden power.

The five adventurers advanced in his sight. Aroth went first to converse with the poorly dressed warrior. But the elder swordsman, was the first to speak this time. With an unchanging expression, he uttered just one word in his stentorian voice.

"Osadin..."

Visibly surprised, they four men turned to the easterling, who was just as oblivious as the others.

"You know of me ?"

"I do... Now draw your blades."

But Osadin didn't oblige the stranger just yet. Advancing slowly, he reached the bottom of a flight of stairs. Focusing on the face of the man in rags, Osadin was trying to recall what laid behind the fog in his memory.

"I know you..." he said.

"And I you. It would seem your Hunt has led you to link the Fire. But it matters not. Face me and earn my allegiance, or walk away. You are in my range." That was all the peculiar man deigned respond.

"Please wait. I don't remember your name but... I... I think you were protecting someone..." tried to elaborate Osadin.

The bare footed champion was now released from his position, he rushed towards the bewildered challenger.

Osadin drew his swords by reflex and blocked a light blow from the top. In response, the Sword Master lead his weapon down the dull part of the blade to reach the wielder's hand. But having predicted the move, the easterling retreated to the right and placed his back against the wall. Shaking and uncertain. The battle had begun between the two martial artists.

Alrof whistled from the great show. The young swordsman had gotten faster since battling Gundyr. He probably focused on strengthening his own body instead of purchasing anything from the old hag. But the Ardent wasn't whistling at his companion, he was admiring his opponent's technique. Surpassing the Swift Osadin in every way imaginable.

The brown-haired fighter had the experience and skills, but his body didn't move the way he wanted. He was too slow he wasn't putting enough force, he was unable to think more moves ahead. Thus, he was overwhelmed after a few seconds.

Striking the blades away with an upward strike, the peerless duelist cut off both of Osadin's hands in one motion. The young man's scream of pain echoed on the Shrine's walls. A slap on Osadin's face put an end to them . But the words that came after cut him just as deeply.

"Pitiful! What could have happened to you ? You are not even fit to carry those little nails." said the disappointed acquaintance.

"I... Don't remember... Tell me..." tried to answer Osadin

"I do not think you deserve to know your heritage, if weakness is all there is to you. Begone."

Sparing this unworthy foe, Osadin retreated amongst his peers. He rested against a dried trunk, observing the blood leaving from the two bloodied appendages.

The bonfire wouldn't just return them to normal now. Lost limbs needed to be connected before the curse Undeath had done its part.

As such, there were two ways for an Undead to recover the use of a separated limb. Either die right after the loss, or put them back in place quickly. It had been seen in the case of Volke's fingers that had been lost in an explosion but saved by his subsequent death.

Osadin's didn't retreat just yet. With tearful eyes, he approached the edge of the cliff. His face was peaceful, in a way.

"Osadin ?"

The man breathed greatly as if preparing to dive into a deep sea. He was trying to ignore the pain and steel himself for the long task ahead of him. Opening his eyes once again, he gave his answer to the old combatant.

"I will prove my worth, Master. I swear on my honour. I will seek the Lords and gather more power. Then I'll return to learn the truth."

Unmoved by the speech, the one concerned headed up the ruined stairs once again.

And to his comrades, the young duelist asked:

"Could you pass me my Estus and arms please ?"

They knew what to do. The young knight opened his hand in front of Osadin who gifted the yellow flask from the ghost of his hand. Then, Alrof placed the severed arms back on the amputated limbs. He had done the same procedure before apparently. Aroth helped pour the content in Osadin's mouth.

Drinking the precious liquid as the bones and nerves were binding anew, Osadin's pain was alleviated.

Now that the hands had been reattached, the risk of cicatrization had been removed. If not, even death wouldn't have allowed the body parts to reform naturally. The young man would have remained crippled for the rest of his existence. Now resolved, the defeated wanderer silently returned to the Shrine to heal his limbs fully.

Left alone with the great martial master, who had reached to his initial spot, the men didn't know what to do now. All except one.

"Ufufu... It's my turn now." said the Ruthless Kieran as he unsheathed his estoc and prepared his small shield.

Alrof couldn't believe the gall of the assassin.

"You serious ? Didn't you see the fight just now ? He'll cut you apart in seconds."

"Seconds will be more than enough to end him."

 _If this bloodthirsty scoundrel wants to take this chance. Then let it be so. I wonder if he has any sort of plan in mind ?_ Thought Aroth as he invited the man to do as he pleased.

Kieran had now reached the point of no-return at the bottom of the stairs. Taking a lowered stance, the master swordsman prepared to engage this valourous yet very foolish new foe. His rush was just as swift as before.

Barely deflecting the blade with his small buckler, Kieran wouldn't hold for long. He retreated to the left. And

It was then that Kieran launched something with a wide move from his left arm. It wasn't directed towards the swordsman, but right on the side of the cliff thanks to his new position. Below the ground they were standing on. A great part of the ruin's stonework crumbled as a result. A large chunk of it was directly below the swordsman.

Surprised by the provenance of the unbalance, the rugged duelist slipped down. The slope was now leading him to his doom. But using his great strength, he planted his katana in the rock. Barely stopping his fall into the mists. But Kieran wasn't going to show mercy.

A high kick on the fighter's face loosed his wrinkled hand.

Thus the ancient Undead fell off without uttering screams nor words of insults. His body disappeared among the cloudy depth, leaving only the curved sword as a relic of his struggle.

"Ah... how sad. You were right ser Pavel, we really need to watch our steps. Kufufufufu..."

Removing the sword from the ground, the sly slaughterer examined it with satisfied eyes. The souls had permeated his being and a smile had permanently settled on his face.

"That was... unexpected. Did you earn his souls despite your foul tactic ?" asked the surprised chevalier.

"Oh yes. Far less than I expected, however, I'll make good use of them."

"And where did you get the bomb ?" wondered Alrof.

"It is one of Volke's. Do you recall your excursion with master Gyron, little herald ? During that time, I promised I would share my recipe for black firebombs if he accepted to lend me a few of them. The boy was delighted and paid in full."

Almost immediately after his story had ended, there was movement in front of the locked tower. A pile of ashes stirred and mixed together. A moment later, a crouched figure formed from the particles and a figured rised anew. The Sword Master had returned.

"Well what do you know ?" commented Alrof with two fingers supporting his chin. Eager to see what came next.

His face unchanged, the fallen sworsdman approached his killer slowly. The gap formed on the path forced him to stick to the walls, but his moves didn't lose their grace and power. He was wielding a new sword, identical to the one that had been stuck in the stone steps. Seeing his lost weapon sword in the assassin's hand, he advanced right in front of him. Against all odds, he enacted a slight bow at the red eyed challenger.

"Well fought... You earned your prize." he said.

"Kehehehehe." Cackled the relieved Kieran as he run his hand along the cold steel.

Silent had fallen over the rest of the group. But Pavel was the one to break it this time.

"Great Undead, are you not sour at the thought of losing this way ? He won by treachery." asked the mature lancer.

At this moment, the look on the old man's face became scarier than the abyssal monster they had fought not long ago. The herald shuddered upon seeing it and the swordsman voice achieved to make the rest of the group shiver in fear.

"How insulting... Do I seem so petty as to find excuses to you ? Learn your place."

The aura of death disapearred as swiftly as it had been created. The calmed swordsman continued.

"Unbalancing your opponent is a part of battle. My lack of vigilance is the only thing I might blame. His cunning deserves protection, no matter how lacking his strength is."

"I'm flaterred, truly. Thank you for the blade. Now then, what does your protection entails exactly ?

Pointing at the castle far in the distance, the swordsman explained.

"Once you reach the land of Lords, should you summon for aid against he great mutt of the Boreal Valley, I shall assist you. My strength will be diminished by the calling, prepare yourself until then."

"How disappointing. I could use a good body guard or two kehehehehe..."

Chuckling evily as he turned back Kieran returned satisfied to Firelink Shrine's large lobby. The three men remaining

"Don't think I'll fall for the same trick twice, leave if you care for your souls."

"Ser Aroth ?" asked Pavel.

"This is Lothric..."

"According to Kieran, it would seem so. Is something the matter ?"

"Maybe it's because I visited the city of the gods, but I have a feeling of deja vu. The towers are... They are..."

Still confused as to why this sight seemed so familar, Aroth focused on every detail of the far off citadel. The numerous pointy towers. The great stones that shined below the sun. There was only one building that towered over the rest, but there had to be more to ths sight. He would need to find an ellevated point to make sure. But make sure of what exactly ?

He decided they had spent enough time outside the shrine. And plainly said:

"It'll come back later."

And so they retreated...

Back inside. They saw Osadin sitted at the bonfire. His arms had beome reattached apparently. And he was meditating silently. Volke was speaking to an old lady clad in red robe. While

"Welcome back O brave Ashes..." commented the crestfallen warrior on their path.

Ignoring the comment, Aroth first checked on Osadin, the fumes of the bonfire centred on his hands.

"Are you alright ?" he asked.

"I am well. I do not wish to discuss the matter of the swordsman, let us focus on strengthening the group."

Amon approached Aroth. Aveny, Carra and Gyron seemed to have asked him to converse with the man from Carim. Carra frenetically produced little flames in impatience.

"The want to hear our story. And I think it's time. Say what you wish." explained the deprived noble.

A bit begrudged by the lack of concern from his brother-in-law, Aroth headed to Amon's former position; over the stairs and directly opposite to one of the five thrones. He addressed the assembly:

"Now, before we depart. You need to learn of the story between me and Amon. I am sorry to take some of your time in this manner."

Ten Unkindled were present, and only two didn't seem eager to listen. Kieran with an exasperated look, and Volke who was still discussing with the old lady.

"Do we need to hear it ?" inquired the assassin "Some of us haven't completely explored the place yet. And there are more people to meet." He hadn't been witness to many of their disputes, given his late joining of the fellowship.

Volke finally joined the rest of the group. Finished discussing it would seem. He took a seat on the ashes.

Bloomseer Carra, who had just finished playing with herself, her pyromancy flame now extinct, replied coldly.

"Ah don't want them ta fight like little girls on our journey without even knowing why they wanna gut each other. Lets hear it and be done with it."

Taking place next to his brother-in-law, Amon confidently sitted on the edge of the. Smiling innocently, he reassured the pyromancer.

"Do not worry, it is not too long a story."


	8. Stories and Gaps

And so the endless story began. Amon had obviously made a jest earlier because Aroth couldn't stop sharing details.

"I was born in the great land of Astora. Place of wondrous craftsmanship and valorous knights. It was a country of serenity where even the water from the poorest district was delicious and clear. I was born a great knight's son and was destined to greatness. Or so I like to believe. I had lived for seven years when our country was attacked by a cruel beast. I heard later that its form was of a gigantic eyeball, endowed with terrible dark powers. His evil corrupted the land and the people were forced to scatter throughout the world. But I wasn't so lucky as to escape its wrath. My entire household was killed and I was badly injured. Which made me forget about my original identity. Thus I have forgotten my family's faces or even what name I was given. Only fragments of this life remained, such as my training, and the love that made me weep for my country upon rescue. For I was saved from the rubbles of my home by a wayward merchant who sheltered me and agreed to lead me to a safe haven. He was a strange fellow who never left his colorful armour. A kind soul nonetheless. In the end of our journey, he brought me to a decrepit orphanage in Carim where I was raised alongside other survivors from Astora's fall. It was there that the former Earl of Carim took pity on me. He had been seduced, I believe, by my proficiency with a blade from the remnants of the blessed days with my father. Being gifted with the new name 'Aroth', I served under my Lordship's guidance as a sparring partner for his two young sons. The elder was Arstor, a brilliant blacksmith and knowledgeable alchemist with whom I shared a deep bound. The other was, as you understand, Amon. He was unkempt and brash and threw many tantrums, but I also appreciated him, for a time."

"I was quite the fighter already, but Aroth of Astora was my better in the arts of battle. And my younger self couldn't accept a new arrival could earn more love from our Father than his true-born son." added the concerned listener.

"At any rate. I grew in strength and cunning and was dubbed a knight for my achievements along the guardsmen of the realm. Until one day, the Earl officially adopted me into the family. I never knew the full reason, but my loyalty to his family was all the more strengthened by this show of faith. Carim respects, or respected the gods and the ways of Lord Gwyn. There was Velka to whom the Pardonners pledged their service, offering salvation to the masses in exchange. Fina was the mistress to the artists and lovers. Caitha, goddess of Tears was the embodiment of our faith in the great gods of Anor Londo. I personally plunged myself into..."

A raucous noise interrupted his tale. Familiar. For it was a snoring, and the black haired sorcerer was the one emitting it once again.

"It's master Gyron... I believe he fell asleep..." observed Pavel.

"That was nicely deduced, servant of the White." commented Kieran snarkily.

"Never woulda guessed." continued Carra with the same look as her colleague.

The two of them really had it in for the middle-aged herald. Was it because of his ties to the Way of White or because he reminded them of their father ? The aggressed spear-wielder let the matter go as part of his calm demeanor, although the powerful Alrof rose in his defense, unhappy.

"Have you really reached the Fire, or are you here because some guy cleared the way for the little children ? Stop wasting time attacking Pavel for no damn reason and try to be useful. Wake the sorcerer up. Delicately if you can even manage."

Put back in their place, the two snide Undead turned away. The sorcerer's noises wouldn't stop and bad memories coursed through the most ancient warrior's minds. The sooner he was back among the awakened, the better.

"He reminds me of da old timey reptile back at da swamp. 'Cept it smelled worse and never woke up." commented Carra who begrudgingly approached Gyron from behind.

She shook him repeatedly and the old man pulled himself together. He had a strange way of being asleep; he either woke up as if nothing happened, or in the present case, he squinted tired eyes, stretched out and yawned. Now realising what had happened, he apologised immediately.

"I'm sorry, I must have lost my concentration... You were saying there were many dogs..? I think..?"

Amused, Amon the Deprived made a proposition to the story-teller.

"Just get to the point brother. Do not worry about my changing of the story of my wrongs."

"Then here is how my brother became a horrible criminal... Just as the Undead curse started making its way into Carim, Amon's persona worsened. No longer did he participate in our spars or our patrols against those that threatened the land. And at night, the bodies of clerics and children started filling the streets. About seven citizens perished I believe. The evidence pointed to Amon, but we couldn't believe it. So we tried to show him to a worshipper of the Goddess of Sin, willing to determine his guilt. But just as my brother was brought before the Pardonner, he slit the throat of Velka's servant before we could know what was lurking within him. Amon escaped our grasp that day. Then on the next, he assaulted the Castle of Carim directly. He killed anyone in his path in order to reach the Earl. And when me and Arstor arrived, it was too late. Amon had plunged his blade in Father's heart. He then lunged at us in a frenzy. I came to him armed with twin blades and my elder brother reached for his spear. After a terrible battle, we managed to subdue the maniac, but not before he gave me this scar."

Removing his helmet, Aroth revealed the scar below his blue left eye. It was a long and deep rift that started on the cheekbone and reached the ear. A sharp blade must have reached the bone to create such disfigurement on the brave knight. He continued:

"Amon had not only slaughtered his countrymen, but also committed an unforgivable sin of parricide. So was he denied forgiveness, I cut him down on the spot. That was when we discovered he had become fully Undead. We ignored an Undead could be perceived at the time and the shock was great. Because he had gathered an absurd amount of humanity, he kept his sanity. So, unable to end his life and him refusing to explain his actions, we imprisoned him for trial."

Looking back at the white-skinned murderer on his left, Aroth turned pensive.

"As for his reasons, I believe he wanted to kill the Earl and his family before the Undead curse touched them. He most likely secured humanity from his victims so he could rule Carim for the rest of existence. But now I had marked his flesh so that all would see him as the Lawless beast he is."

"Was." indicated Lawless Amon with the black markings covering over half of his face.

Aroth dismissed the correction.

"Since no execution could take place, we exiled him in secret to the Undead Asylum far to the north, never to return in Carim as he was forever considered Exile. I also managed to secure a promise from Velka's worshipper never to grant him a removal of his sins. Thus did I become known as the Arklaw, judge and protector of Carim for a short time... But, the Undead Curse began afflicting more and more of the land. My forces couldn't stem the rising tide of soulless corpses. And when even I was touched, I was forced to depart and seek the Cure. Bound by honor and duty to protect my new home from any threat. My brother Arstor stayed behind to rule as the new Earl of Carim, with hope he hadn't been to saddened by the tragedy. I departed forthwith to follow the prophecies that could save this world. "

Pavel's eyes widened in response to the story. Beginning to reenact the ancient call.

" _Thou who art Undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know_."

Aroth nodded at his cultured comrade.

"I had no hope that Amon would accomplish this destiny. But soon enough, he would turn Hollow and even the memory of his existence would disappear. But of course, he was resourceful. I I couldn't find his body in the prison, moving or unmoving."

Amon explained:

"I couldn't stay put. They had made sure the Pardonners wouldn't reach me. And so, ever since I left the asylum, I was chased by the Blades of the Darkmoon who pledged to bring down the justice of the gods to all sinners. But I don't blame them. I am now a changed man and a devoted warrior of the light."

Trying to resist the urge of rebutting this claim, Aroth of Carim ended his chronicle:

"And so I pursued both goals of Linking the Fire and chasing my murderous brother. And my quest lead me before you all." finally concluded Aroth

The word 'finally' was indeed the shared thought of half of the group. Aveny took the stage, to share her thoughts.

"We now know what manner of sins Lord Amon committed. I will not forgive his actions against the gods and his own people. But there must be more to him than such cruelty. He has been most pleasant to us all and has risked losing himself against Gundyr. His demeanor is the mark of a kind soul. He also redeemed himself in his attempt to save the Fire, and seem eager to prove himself worthy of our friendship. I say we let that part of his life in the past in order to accomplish our duty as Unkindled."

Leaving his position over the stairs, Amon bowed gracefully to his ally. Almost comical how a lack of clothing didn't stop the other Unkindled from taking the man seriously. He had a way with words and quite the charisma. A complete opposite from the man in Aroth's story.

"Thank you Lady Aveny... What do the others think ?" he said.

"I say we keep an idea on you young man, but you should participate in our quest. Maybe Aroth can stay with you at all time ?" proposed the Learned Gyron.

Though reluctant at the idea of staying with his mad brother for all time, Aroth didn't dismiss the idea. And the conversation began anew, each telling how they viewed the situation.

According to majority rule, it would certainly be decided that Amon could stay with the group. It was the same way for Kieran, tolerated despite his obvious sadistic and bloodthirsty tendencies. When Alrof turn came, he wanted to hear more about the tale. They were safe now, so it seemed like a good time.

"He is a good fighter and a fun fellow. I say the man stays. Now that the matter is done, is there more to the story ?"

And so a little more was revealed:

"Very well... Like all of you, I had to complete many trials to be deemed worthy of reaching the First Flame. I completed the challenges of the gods and defeated the miscreant that would have stopped my march. I managed to reach the flame, and burned myself in order to restore it. But pain and shame were all that resulted from the attempt. And now here I stand."

"Yeah, sure, and who was it that you had to kill to get there ? Any tales of epic ?" insisted Alrof the Impatient.

Aroth sighed, and obliged his public.

"The way was perilous before I even reach the realm of the First Flame. I had to kill the mightiest servants of the gods in order to prove my worth. Two of the golden champions of Gwyn; one was swift as thunder and skilled in spearmanship, the other a behemoth able to crush any man. They tested my mettle, and my victory granted me an audience before the very daughter of Gwyn. She allowed me to take the next step. There was the perilous quest to slay the Ancient Lords and harness the Lord Souls. But I shall share the story of their slaying another time... At long last, after using their power before a stone doorway, the way to the First Fire was cleared. I had reached my goal, but was subsequently denied the honor of rekindling the Fire. And that is all I remember. I hope my sharing this tale hasn't been to tiresome."

Everyone looked in Gyron's direction, who sighed in embarrassment.

"I'm wide awake, thank you..."

Osadin called out with his arm raised in order to ask a question.

"There should be more, no ? Isn't there supposed to be a guardian at the Kiln to test your might ? Stronger than any prior trial ? That would be a worthy inclusion." wondered Osadin who had paid great attention.

The notion of the last trial confused Aroth, but most of the group nodded in response.

"Yeah, I had to get rid of two knights... Right bastards stronger than anything I met before. They could revive themselves on the spot." started a red haired barbarian.

"Ah fought a big talkin' demon. Ah forgot his name but he was tough and squishy." continued a green-haired gal.

"I don't remember it well... I think there was a white axe-wielding giant with no name." said a bald-headed maiden who deemed those stories of bravery as a worthy addition.

Amon interrupted the reminiscences before Osadin, Pavel, Gyron and Kieran could have their turn.

"Let me remind you that the world has warped its ways more than once. And the Fire will not always be protected by a great being. No need to be confused over the differences in our respective quests. Now I believe we can go back to exploring the Shrine."

Volke and Carra rose immediately and rushed to visit the parts of the building they had missed.

Splitting apart once again, the Ashen Ten went wherever they felt. The young knight walked down the stairs, his throat was sore after speaking for so long and he drank some of his Estus for the form. His first Unkindled companion was there to welcome him in the ashes.

"So you had twin blades, like Osadin. You'd be a right fit with Faraam knights. You're skilled, though you need more souls now."

"Thank you Alrof. I'm going to meet the lady over ther. Do you wish to join me ?"

"Sure. I didn't have the time to check."

"I'll accompany you, if you don't mind."

Aroth didn't. And so the new trio slowly advanced towards the long open corridor, Aroth continued the conversation.

"Faraam knights use twin swords then ? This must be quite the group of martial artist."

"Twin weapons, any will do. We are, or maybe were, a furious bunch in service to Faraam, though I was more violent than all of them combined bahahah!

His laughter certainly hid his concern for his fellow warrior. 'Or maybe were', uncertainty was a sad thing in this strange land whose age had passed without their notice. The young knight continued.

"I believe you are more versed in handling a single greataxe given how you fight. Have you changed your ways ?"

"Not exactly. I use a smaller axe in my left hand to grab and unbalance my foe to the ground... Then Dragonair did the rest. Anyway, that's the lady ? Hey... Wait a second..."

As they were two feets away from the merchant, Alrof recalled meeting her before. She was very old, seated in a wooden chair. She was clad in a dusty red robe. A repaired red hood that covered her head and her eyes were hidden behind dirty bandages, as were her hands. Alrof was the first to speak.

"Hey, I recognise the clothes. Aren't you one of the Old Ladies from inside that tree before Majula ?"

"Well well... A familiar face for an old crone's blind eyes. I recognise thine scent, even now that you are Ash. Come to play with a new kind of Curse, Hairy One ?"

Amon puffed at the mention of this surname. Indeed, the man had so great a mane that some of the hair on his chest could be seen on his neck.

"Hairy one... That's what you said when you gave me the doll. You have a good memory for a fossil. Shouldn't you be dead by now ?"

"Thanks to thine obvious failure to remove the Curse ages ago, I lived long enough to become Undead as well. Fashionably late I'll admit, but twas a profitable happenstance. It is sad how my dear friends couldn't share my fortune."

In the silence that came from that sad confession, the lady chuckled before adding to her story:

"Oh tis quite nostalgic a meeting. But I can feel it, you lost thine precious armor and the 'little sword', as you called it... A change of fashion so late in your life ?"

She entered another guffaw from her little jest. But Alrof didn't seem to recall that last detail.

"Very funny m'lady, we all lost our equipment. And I don't remember wielding a sword since my early days as a Faraam Knight. I take back what I said, old age is still hitting you very hard."

Tilting her head ever so slightly. She giggled maniacally. She was older than Gyron to be sure, and crazier too.

"Ah, no matter. What can this humble handmaiden of the shrine do in thy service now ?"

"What can you offer milady ?" asked Aroth

"Weapons, armor, trinkets, spells and miracles. I've lots of little things that will ease the burden of weary travellers."

"She has bombs and knifes... Costly... Don't buy..." Commented a young thief while passing by.

Volke had put his light armor back on it would seem. Likely because there was no sunlight inside the shrine. The red-robed elderly woman took offense to the comment.

"How rude. Tis natural my services would cost dearly. Isn't it thy wont after all ? To fetch souls as you journey towards the Lords."

The old handmaiden openned her hands. In doing this, she allowed the three Unkindled to peer into the items she kept within herself. For each article, a quantity of souls was attached, a prize to pay. Among the equipement, they noticed a full set of chainmail. No inscriptions or fancy parts.

"Ah! Someone will be happy to have clothes on his back." immediately cheered Alrof will patting the former kin-slayer.

Amon, courteous as ever, confirmed this wish.

"Indeed, would you allow me to acquire of this chainmail set fair maiden ?"

"Goodness, thou art quite the noble customer. Hmm... Thy scent reminds me of..."

"You're embarrassing me milady. Please, just give me something to wear."

Leaving the matter completely, the lady made the exchange. Something was lost, something was gained.

The transaction complete, Amon wasted no time to endow his new attire. The deprived had finally become completely covered except for his marked face. Carra, who passed them bye, glowered for an unknown reason.

"A bit loose on the belly, despite being soul bound to myself. But tis certainly a decent protection."

"Now let's meet the big fellow in the back. Farewell old bat." finished Alrof the Red, eager to leave the lady behind.

"Farewell O brave 'dragonslayer' kehehehehe..."

The echoes from her laughter followed them in the large tunnel that led to the busy artisan in the back.

The new encounter was an older man, muscular to a fault. Almost as big as Alrof, but with a larger build. Scars where scattered on his bare torso and his white hairs where stained with the dust from his work. A long and magnificent beard collected the particles in similar fashion. He was constantly hammering the same blade. Probably making use of his endless stamina as a Undead to produce the sharpest blade the world could imagine.

Aroth took the lead. And removed his helmet before saluting the strong-armed iron-bender. He knew the man.

"Well met O countryman."

A broad smile enraptured the old blacksmith.

"By my ancestors! If it isn't the best customer I ever had! So you became Unkindled after all ?"

"So it would seem. I failed in my task. But I have returned and been endowed with a new calling."

"Aye. The Lords of Cinders. Toilsome journey to be sure. I didn't think you could fail at anything with what I made for you. Hold a moment... Where did you put my armor ? You're afraid to stain it with the ashes or something ?"

Bowing as a way of apology, Aroth explained the fate of his precious garb.

"It was lost when I burned away. It was so for most of my companions. I am sorry to give you this news..."

"Burned away ? How did this happen ? Oh, darn it... 'Tis a right pity. I had integrated so much of my time and souls into it, I wouldn't have been surprised if it started walking by itself. He... Hehe..." joked the mighty crafter, bitterly.

This reminder gave Alrof pause as he confessed about a similar loss.

"I had my precious amor taken away as well. But the worst was losing the best greataxe in existence... Dragonair... A marvelous masterpiece... It was as long as a beautiful woman but just as heavy. Made from a dragon's windpipe for the hilt, and a slab of pure red titanite for the blade. I can still see it it soaring in the air... The fire-spewing bone that breathes into the head, making it glow bright with the heat. It can cut right through enemies like they were made out of the softest piece of butter. When you see its work, you can only cry before the perfection of the hot traces it has left on the ground, on the flesh of your enemies, and in your soul."

The red-bearded knight was describing his beloved axe with in a very touching speech. Even Volke who standed below them was mesmerized.

"By the gods... This idea, this grace, I can almost picture it." whispered a stargazing blacksmith.

Amon managed to break free of the legendary weapon's captivation. He returned to the matters at hand.

"At any rate, can you produce our equipment Master Blacksmith ?"

"I'm sorry boys, but my work ain't done for free. As I told some of your folks, I need materials and souls to make any changes. So in the meantime, give a little respect to what you already have. The bonfire can repair some damage, and I can fix what is fully broken, but the taint of a black heart would not go away so easily."

Having said his piece, the ancient artisan pointed his iron hammer behind the three men.

"By the by, tell that red-eyed bastard over there he be unwelcome at m'workshop. He overstepped his bound and treated me as his plaything. This I remember."

Kieran was observing the trio from the side of the stairs. Smiling and feigning ignorance as to what the blacksmith implied.

"We will. To the pleasure of seeing you again Andre." responded Aroth with a bow, relacing his helmet in the same motion.

"Be seeing you then. And do be careful going back to Lothric. The place is worse than ever."

"Do not worry. Our group can handle any challenge." reassured the hopeful knight of Carim as he walked away with Alrof the Ardent.

Amon stayed behind to further converse with the black-smith.

While Alrof volunteered to pass the message, Aroth departed to meet the last sentient inhabitant of the Shrine. The little crowned on a throne bigger made for a being quite greater than him. He was already with others from the group of Ashen ones. As he climbed up the stairs, a detail returned to the young knight's mind.

 _Did Andre say 'back' in Lothric ?_

Probably only an expression...


	9. Daring to Die

Three heroes were sitting around a flame. One was a green-haired woman, clad in bright furs and wooden-ornaments. Another was a somber-haired old man in a long robe, colored like the dust he was standing upon. The last one was a young swordsman who had removed part of his armor, massaging his hands pensively.

While the rest of their group was greeting the remaining residents or exploring the premises, they had chosen chose to wait at the bonfire. The old scholar, Gyronn was intently manipulating the flames emitted from the red coiled sword, much to the exasperation of the impatient pyromancer.

"Ya done playin' with fire yet ? Normally that's my job..." said Carra while resting on her side.

"I am only intrigued. According to what each of us recounts, the ability of the bonfire to transpose bodies between bonfires, which used to be only available to one bearing a Lordvessel, is now permanently linked to the bonfires themselves, and this was seen after only a handful of cycles."

While Gyron began his lecture, Carra was busy making strange shapes in the ashes. Volke, seated over them and gazing silently over the chamber, could probably tell what she was drawing. But the two men seated next to her were unsure.

"Sure, we got it already. Whattaboutit ?" she sighed.

The scruffy wizard rose up, smitten with inspiration. He started perambulating and brushing his unkempt black beard with each step. He declared:

"I theorize that ever since the earliest Linkings of the Fire, not only were Lords of Cinder produced with every success, but the abilities they possessed were engraved within the Fire, even abilities that came from powerful artefacts. Thus, every bonfire acquired new properties everytime the First Flame embraced a new Chosen Undead."

The old master was brimming with focus. His eyes following the hot fiery shapes on the side as he continued his interpretation:

"The fact that bonfires can restore equipment could come from an Undead skilled in the art of blacksmithing. Or it could come from the numerous repairing sets that every adventurer needed to procure before the bonfire fulfilled this role. For the transportation, could the Homeward miracle from Undead clerics be the cause ? So many possibilities, and we have no way of knowing how many Linkings are required for changes to occur. If this theory is correct of course."

"Yes, I'll admit this is all very intriguing master Gyron, but I believe our companions have finished their stroll."

The four people who had been conversing with the small Lord of Cinders, still seated on the giant stone throne, were now converging towards the center of the room. Volke jumped down in response and stretched his arms and legs earnestly. Meanwhile Aveny and Pavel were coming down from the other side. Saluting the unmoving soldier on the way.

"Will you accompany to Lothric, Ser ? I don't believe you shared your name yet." inquired the partially armored Pavel.

A small chuckle left the collapsed man upon hearing this hopeful proposal. The answer didn't take long to leave the soldier.

"Eh... I don't think I'm cut out for this quest anymore. I have journeyed far beyond Lothric Castle already, and found this search... pointless. But by all means, if a name is what you need, you may call me Hawkwood the Deserter. I wouldn't mind..."

The man was much more withdrawn than the quiet thief, in a way. But his mind was set and the two servants of the gods comprehensively retreated.

"May the Sun shine upon your path and restore your joy, we will return." preached the cleric maiden.

She then joined the eight other Ashen ones near the bonfire. The Shrine Firekeeper was seated on the steps and patiently listening the events unfolding with a gentle smile. Zealous Aveny approached a young knight.

"Noble Aroth, what is your impression of the little Lord Ludleth of Courland ?" she asked the de-facto leader, Aroth of Carim.

"Tis a noble soul with a sad fate. We are honoured by his sacrifice."

Alrof added.

"The man has guts, reaching the Fire and returning for more. Just like us! Sort of... I wonder how he lost his legs though ?"

Osadin joined the conversation.

"Don't be afraid to ask, Ardent Alrof. When I met the man, he seemed eager to converse with new visitors, and silent staring might hurt him more than the question."

"Isn't that rude ? I don't go asking Kieran why his eye is glowing." answered the strong-armed man.

An answer that proved itself adapted given the assassin's personality.

"Ufufufufu... I can tell you if you ask gently. It's been so long since I shared my story to non-contractors." he chirped.

Carra, who had erased her ash-drawings, took the floor disparagingly.

"Sure. So what is it ? Cut yerself while making that silly haircut ? Yer other eye's completely covered but it's a normal one, that's dumb. Let's just go."

"Give me some credit, woman, I actually...I had... Hmm..."

For once, the assassin didn't give a full answer. Odd... He was now looking very perplexed. Amon inquired:

"What is it master assassin ?"

"Tis strange, the details as to how I got this scar have escaped me." confessed the black-haired devil.

"Just like you forgot what you did to old Andre ? Don't try and be clever." replied Ardent Alrof who started to tire of his nonsense.

But the assassin seemed honest in his plea. He acted offended for the first time since joining the group.

"Do you realise how many people I have slain ? So many clients and so many targets. Of course I would be wont to forget a few. But my beautiful scar, how ever could I forget such a thing ? Tis part of myself in many ways. And I know there's a grand story behind it."

Annoyed more than the rest of the assembly, the pyromancer's complaint broke the matter completely.

"Who cares about sum lost legs or big scars ? There's one Lord less to worry about an' a dumb story ta not care about. Can we git goin' to Lothric or whatever ?"

Carra was just as discourtuous as the first time she laid eyes on the group. But she had a point. They were in the Shrine for a long time now and had run out of souls to exchange or integrate. Now was the time for adventure. Kieran begrudgingly kept silent.

"Then should we all go ? The ten of us together as before ?" wondered Aveny.

"It worked so far... So I guess we shouldn't take risks." admitted Alrof, probably disappointed he couldn't risk heading out on his own. The weakening from the awakening was consterning, as for the reasoning behind it, at the mere thought of it, his head was aching.

"Very well then, we depart." turning towards the silent Firekeeper, Aroth bid his farewell.

"Goodbye my Lady."

To this, the young woman responded ceremoniously.

"Farewell Ashen Ones. May the flames guide thee."

One by one, the brave Unkindled ones extended hopeful hands to the bonfire. As the fumes enveloped each of them, their body dissipated, and the Shrine's eerie silence was restored.

Far in the distance, Lothric would welcome them...

-~o~-

On the High Wall of Lothric, the soulless soldiers had amassed around the little shrine on the very edge of the citadelle. Whatever its use was, the numerous Hollow wouldn't know now, but they were unsure about its purpose even before they turned into mindless drones. They were now patrolling around it for a reason they had all forgotten; their corpse and mind had rotted away with the passage of time.

They walked on and on still, empty eyed , skin dried, their empty belly no longer needing sustenance. And when all had turned their gaze away from the small building, something, occured, a disturbance in their ceaseless routine.

Some of them thought they heard a noise from the Shrine, and indeed, something had happened.

There was a small opening in the door now. There hadn't been a lot of noise however. Some Hollows stopped, but they soon returned on their little stroll. What use is an slight opening on a door in their hunt for souls ? They return to thier task of circling once again the path they had walked ever since they lost their true selves.

But then came a true noise.

The door was completely opened now, from within, but with nothing behind it. But that wasn't the real concern. It was the new source of noise that intrigued them. Something other than them ? Something alive ? More souls to devour ?

A few of them approached the entrance, their weapons still stitched to the skin of their hands, ready for battle and eager to kill.

A first one entered. There was nothing up front, but maybe there was something to the side. 'Something' that had made the noise. 'Something' that needed to be found. But that 'something' found them instead.

A leather bound arm grabbed the first Hollow and pulled it on the side, where the other Undead wretches wouldn't see. There was more noise emitted, and black blood dripped on the stone. The other Hollows hurried inside ready to strike at whatever was there, but were unbalanced and pulled and taken away and killed in a similar fashion.

The small group who had entered didn't reappear. And there had been more noise. For the larger bulk of Undead outside, now was the time to assault in force. But they weren't the ones who launched a charge first.

A slim man with a thin sword and a small shield, along with a smaller specimen that was hiding his face, had exited the building and headed towards the sides. Easy preys for the numerous Hollows.

The intruders would die. That was the mission, that was the purpose, that was their fate.

But those sane Undead were more than the Hollows had thought. From the building came more warriors who struck the surprised Hollows. The two first fighters had been a diversion, and had allowed the battle to tilt towards the invader's side.

One Hollow's head was crushed by a steel mace. Another lost his fingers and had his throat cut by twin blades. Yet another, in the back, received a massive blue arrow on the chest that pierced through the walking corpse like butter. The remaining few would perish under the chargers that finally exited the shrine. Two knights and a mighty axeman. Whose momentum tore the Undead ranks to shreds. A green-haired woman was the last to leave the hideout.

And so, all the Hollows guarding the shrine were killed. Almost.

One of the defenders had been impaled on his caved belly by a spear. But he was still wriggling and conscious. Animated by the Curse, the cadaver tried to slash his attacker with the sharp edge of his longsword.

But the wooden club of a shiny figure smashed his head before he could act.

Freed from the spear by the force of the blow, the last Hollow fell down a long set of stairs before stopping in front of a small mount of ash, pierced by a stone sword.

The Ashen Ten were victorious, and the bonfire was in sight.

"Thank you Lord Amon." said the lancer, in appreciation of the shiny combatant who had finished his quarry.

"Amon will do. Those Hollows' armors are similar to Volke. Quite sturdier than it looks, it deflected your stab into the skin."

The Ruthless Kieran approached the young thief who was comparing his clothes to the Hollows. There was a striking resemblance, as Amon had said.

"Nice work boy, you picked the timing perfectly. Grandiose display of stealth and a nice work on those throats." said the murderer cheerfully.

"Thank you..." answered the tattooed teenager half-heartedly.

Meanwhile, the blue-clad cleric full-heartedly proclaimed the following:

"Lord Amon, your new chainmail looks marvelous under the rays of our glorious father! You truly reflect his gift to us a second time. Praise you!"

Indeed, the now fully armored Amo of Carim was glistening because of the sun's actions. Making him strikingly apparent to the entire party. More than when his bare skin had shined over Alrof on their first meeting. Aroth commented on it in in seriousness.

"It is simply a bland set of armor, in the end. I think we should dirty it a bit. Hollows don't react to light, but we do." said a fully plated knight whose old armour didn't produce as much spectacle.

"A good proposal Brother." responded the club-wielding warrior.

While dust was rubbed on the steel rings, the barbarious combatant kicked a Hollow as he scratched his bearded cheeks. ANother fighter joinedhi

"Blasted things... Were they waiting for us ? They tried to reach us even though they could not see us nor hear our arrival." wondered Osadin as he cleaned the blood from his sword."

But Alrof dismissed the thought.

"Those Hollows ? With no more thoughts than _'die and feed me souls'_ ? Unlikely. Something must have drawn them here long ago and they died here. Otherwise they'd have returned on those battlements with all the rest."

Below them were two parts of the great wall. And each was filled to the brim with Hollows. But the majority of them were praying and had not reacted to the group's arrival. For the moment.

Carra was the one who lit the bonfire with but a thought, as could any Undead who wished to rest at such artefacts. The group hadn't taken any damage, but it felt right to sit around the rising flames. It invigorated the group, mostly the Sun-Worshipper who couldn't stop emoting her joy.

"Praise the Sun, and praise the bonfire! Our journey is starting well if I may say so." stated the bald-headed lady with great fervor.

"Yes, but how should we proceed now ? We can't go together into ambushes and. We need plannings."

All turned towards

"I'm was formed to be a strategist, that much is true, but I travelled alone in my quest for the First Flame. Although I did acquire skills for charting enemy territory, the matter of forming groups and making plans isn't my forte anymore. I am open for ideas."

"Ah've got nothin'." said Carra

"Same for me. I cut my way through life literally and not figuratively." continued Osadin

"I am sorry for my lack of experience, anyone else ?" apologised Aveny

"I'm fine with someone else deciding... Just put me against the most ennemies" declared Alrof

Kieran, Gyron and Amon were left.

"I know how a group of hunter might think, but explorers ? I know nothing that might interest you other than our need for escape plans."

Gyron

"I think smaller groups would attract less attention. But I see Lord Amon has confidence in his plan."

"First of all, I need to know who feels confident that they can die without risking to become Hollow. Who here has his purpose clear ?"

You are wise to suggest that. I have a plan: We split into two groups for now, one big and one smaller given the difficulty of either paths. For the smaller group, I know precisely who should depart. Pavel, you are a defender and you have more ways to soothe your wounds, so you can help a smaller group. Aroth, the very same idea can apply, you have the best armor out of all of us and can stem the tide. Miss Carra will cover you from a distance while able to defend herself with her axe. Finally, Osadin will can move swiftly whenever either member gets overwhelmed. Does anyone disagree ?"

"Very well. That building with the rose window will be our goal. Try to reach it or find another bonfire. Should you find yourself at an impasse, join the other group by following the corpses. If the joint force reaches a new crossroad, the groups shall split up in a similar manner."

The biggest group stepped down the stairs into the

Two sword-wielding Hollows came out from behind a. Ambushing the groups in the furious rage of Undead without humanity left. But Alrof's axe and Amon's club had the kindness of changing the state of their minds. By crushing their heads of course. Thankfully, the noise didn't

A Hollow was rising from a distant set of stairs. Carrying a lantern. Upon noticing the large group, it started shouting in a gravelly voice that could wake even the dead. And that is precisely what it did.

Around him, more and more Hollows started awakening as if the voice of the vigil acted like a rising sea that crept up towards the group.

But before the scream could awaken more soulless corpses, a wooden arrow landed right between the empty eyes of the caller. Volke had pulled out a short bow and effectively silenced the alarm.

Now, Alrof, Aveny and Amon could eliminate the early-risers.

Once the coast was clear of non-curled-up Undead. Alrof went to the thief's side. He asked, in the name of the others:

"Where did you get that ?"

"Bombs expensive... Bow and arrow cheap..." simply replied the Withdrawn youngster.

"Let's not take more chances, eliminate the rest, we take souls where we can." proposed the wise warlock.

While Gyron and Aveny stood ready to eliminate any lantern carriers inbound, Kieran and Volke had unsheathed their bladed weapons and were executing every last inactive Hollows. Slashing their throats or piercing their skulls without mercy. They now had earned a sizable bounty, but they could go on for a much longer streak, and had barely longer.

"WAKE UP AND LET ME KILL YOU!" shouted Kieran in a the ears of a curled up Hollow.

"What are you doing!" angrily asked alrof, ready to swing his axe at the foolish rogue.

"Theorizing. Those hollows react to their kind, not us, so we can converse as we wish around the praying masses."

It was a grumbling behemoth who let the matter go, since the reckless action had been useful. And now, the six adventurers could observe the surroundings more closely. One of the obvious details was the corpse of a great flying lizard.

"A drake, given his two legs and two wings.

"What do you think killed that guy ?"

"Its still breaking down into cinders... But given the advanced decomposition of the Hollow's equipment, the corpse must have been here for quite a long time. not mean much to tell about the time of death. Is it a unaging dragonling for it to so continuously fade away ?" explained the Learned master of the Dragon School.

The insides of the wall, from which the light-bearing Hollow had come, were dark and screamed the word ' _ambush_ ' to every member of the group. They unanimously chose to clear the way in the surface before daring venture forth.

"Let me have a look." proposed Alrof.

His companions didn't object. And Alrof glanced over the stone stairs on the left.

What he saw chilled his souls. Innumerable hollows, some wearing good armor. Many dozens of them, more than there should be. And two patrolling Undead with lanterns, who thankfully didn't hear Kieran earlier. They looked ready to unleash their brethren should a mouse enter their field of vue. Alrof immediately retreated to the group, keeping his voice low in order not to alert the enemy.

"Too much. Some praying... Two lanterns, middle left and right."

"Do we retreat ?"

"No, abundance of souls, and they have to guard something. Drake scales ?"

"Probable, though unlikely. I say we retreat." suggested Gyron.

"No, we wil never earn our souls back if we do not take risks. If we take out the screamers, the rest will be easy prey."

"I like the sound of that..." commented Kieran with a dark glow in his strange eye.

After a while, all of the group nodded in approbation. Pleased, the Lawless Amon etched his little plan:

"Volke ? Gyron ? Are you prepared to kill the lantern-bearers ?" he asked to the ranged combatants.

"Ready to fire." and "Say the word..." Were their answers.

Confidently, the group braced for battle.

As soon as the group entered the tower summit, Gyron's spell and Volke's arrow flew true. They reached both targets; Volke the closest undead, and Gyron whose spell curved towards the head of the furthest one. A head that disappeared completely from the impact.

"Ah, this takes me back... Nothing like target practice on live specimens." reminisced the old wizard.

Praying silently that those ' _targets_ ' were not of a certain kind, the group proceeded among the kneeling.

None of the sleepy Hollows had been stirred awake and the prayers of the robes hollows were kept unanswered. Kieran and Volke prepared to cut a great amount of necks.

It was then that two sounds were heard. The first was the unmistakable eruption from a fiery explosive, the other was from their companion. And that second sound was most horrible.

"ARGGGHH!" had shrieked Gyron in pain.

A ball of fire had engulfed the mage and he was now convulsing on the ground; screaming for dear life as the familiar feeling of burning alive engulfed his ancient Undead flesh.

"ON THE STAIRS!" warned Amon in a panic.

Alrof raised his wooden shield in the direction of the threat while Aveny immediately cast her miracle to help the injured mage. The remained Unkindled noticed who had done the deed immediately.

There was another awakened hollow behind them, and next to that grenadier, a robed Hollow had raised a lantern and stood ready to call down their doom.

Gyron's arm had been burned by the bomb. So all rested on Volke's arrow to fly straight to the lantern-wielder, but he was farther than before, and the Hollow was on higher grounds.

The thief wasn't dexterous enough... His arrow penetrated only the skin of the monster's chest, failing to prevent the carcass' screams from completing their task.

All around them, even the furthest husk arised and unsheathed their rusted weapons. They advanced as one on the small group. The horde had awakened.

"Gods..." whispered Aveny who had finished healing the sorcerer as she braced herself and switched to her blue shield.

They were completely encircled, and the Hollow above prepared to launch new bombs.

"Circle up! Use the wall as cover!"

"We can't move master Gyron, and I can't move if the miracle has to fully take place." Said Aveny who had closed her eyes in her praying stance.

"Leave him and help!"

Alrof struck a decrepit soldier before joining the clerics side. He wouldn't follow that directive, and neither would Volke. Amon and Kieran had, in tuen, been encircled.

Just as the assault would be given on the newly formed groups, a large ray of light was emitted from where the party had entered the plaza.

This powerful incantation ejected the hollows overhead into the air. Almost comical how the undead seemed to praise the sun as they flew over the walls. The rocks themselves had been blown away at the point of impact from the miracle. What kind of miracle could do this ?

"Seeyah!" shouted an unfamiliar voice.

The four Hollows who had turned back to check were suddenly split in two at the waists. And following this fact, two other Hollows were turned to mush before the party could understand what was happening. A round shape was spinning into the Hollow mass, slowly carving the ranks with the wide swings of a gigantic greatsword.

Of course, the other side of the soulless army paid no heed to their decimation. They assaulted the group Ashen ones with abandon. Alrof and Aveny took the vanguard while Amon and Kieran handled the sides. Volke watched over Gyron who was drinking from his Estus flask.

All this thanks to the opening the stranger had now carved behind them. Hope had been rekindled and they would not fall today. And so the battle raged on for a long while.

When the storm of blood and steel had passed, the interloper became clear in their sight.

"I say, you looked to be in quite the pickle, Lady Aveny." said the new arrival.

A plump looking knight was now standing proudly where half of the horde had been destroyed.


	10. Bulbous Tale of Bravery

His stuffy gauntlets were more akin to hold anvils than forearms. His helmet was exceedingly large, shaped like a pebble destined to be bounced over a lake. Below it, the armor showed three wrinkles between overly bloated plates. It made the whole cuirass look like a giant succession of chins. All this, including a round shield with a spike at the center, made the form of the powerful savior unmistakable. A true Onion Knight. The legendary hero approached the tail of a fallen Drake. He put his greatsword against its wing, and he sat himself with the full weight of his armor. He and sighed in relief: "Haa... Hollow scoundrels are dealt with... And I have a good seat to lie upon. Brilliant! Now now, don't be averse to conversation friends, I am no danger to you."

Around the six companions, no movement was felt from the fallen corpses. But their state was something to behold. The bodies were cut in large pieces, the swords and shields had been bent beyond repair, nothing could face the warrior's might. His unimaginable force was not the only impressive thing, the knight bursted with vigour and all the Unkindled could feel how he was superior to them in every conceivable way. Cheery and ready for more, the monstrous man still intimidated them. Lawless Amon alone dared advance towards this unfathomable combatant.

"Thank you for your timely assistance Ser Knight of Catarina. If that is still the name of your land."

The polite giant answered with a bow from his seated position.

"It is, or was, I haven't been home in a long time..." raising his head kindly, he continued "But! It still makes me Siegward of Catarina, at your service! Come, come sit yourself down by the Gods!" The party answered in kind, out of respect and partly out of fear. finding some place to sit among the broken furniture and pools of black blood and organs. The untroubled knight smiled. His gentle grin could be felt despite the large helm that covered his face completely. He commended their politeness. "Magnificent, I haven't seen this many people together since... well, I don't even remember anymore! Hohoho! Anyhow, it is common sense for Unkindled to rally together, in order to fulfill their duties. And so I lent you my aid in your time of need. And I did well, wouldn't you say Milady Aveny ?"

Once again, the stranger had called the young maiden by her name. But she didn't seem so eager to address this man.

"You are right O brave Warrior of Catarina. But... don't I believe we met before this day ? So how could you know my name ?"

"Have we not ? Is my voice warped in some way ? It's me!" the great man patted his plastron thrice. "Siegward! The oncle of young Siegfried! We met on your quest to find some lost Miracle in the Profaned Capital not too long ago. Wasn't that what you did ?"

All eyes turned towards Aveny whose cheeks turned red in embarassment. She felt guilty as she gave her honest answer: "I am sorry, but I... Don't think we met ? The name Siegfried does sound familiar, but I have travelled alone ever since my followers perished in... Since I... Gods what is happening ?"

Once again, one of the Ashen Ones couldn't completely answer a question about their previous journey. The Zealous and Cheerful Aveny was now confused, just as had been others from her fellowship.

Things had turned clear in the assassin's head. He called the attention of everyone present: "Oh damn it all... You see this ? Do you understand what's happening ?" Kieran got up to make an irritated speech. "This is not natural. The explanation is simple: someone not only stole our equipement and sucked out our souls, they also took our blasted memories along! This is why I can't remember how I got this scar, why Osadin didn't know the old swordsman, why Aroth didn't remember who he fought before linking the Fire. Some bastards stole some ACTUAL parts of us!" Kieran's allegations was accompanied by violent movements and a rising anger inside his glowing eye. Siegward was perplexed by this display, and also by the revelation. "You... You lost your souls ?" he questioned. "All of you ?".

The absence of a direct response "That sounds awfully dreadful! What madness! What could have caused this ?" Alrof, normally jovial and confident, became unnerved. He tried to dismiss this possibility with hastily gathered confidence: "Hold a moment, you sure it's affected all of us ? Cause my thoughts feel natural and complete. For the most part. Of which there aren't many... Damnit." The strongest of the Ashen Ten was now beginning to question whether the old handmaiden really saw him using a " _little sword_ '. Gyron was the next to admit his lack of remembrance: "Now that I think of it, I can't remember when I left the Dragon School... I do remember leaving it to search for sorceries and the First Flame, but... Was I with someone else ?" another thought made him shudder: "Could it be that we are now Hollows ? But are yet unaware of it ?"

Hearing this claim, Volke took the stage. "No, not Hollow... Not like the Curse... You don't forget like this from the Curse... When you go Hollow, the Dark covers you, who you are... A soft blanket... I should find parts of me under, and remember... But there is no Dark, there is nothing... No Dark... Creaking sound survived from where something has left... No... Where has it gone ?"

That was the longest young Volke had ever spoken. But the Ruthless killer didn't give a care. Instead, his blood boiled with furry. Kieran started striking on the walls bare-handed. Attracting all the attention to him. He started a remonstrance, punctuating each sentence with a punch on the stone crenels and each subsequent attack was increasing in intensity:

"Did I forget some of my kills ? Did I FORGET my trophies! If I find the one who did this... I'll make sure they can come back to life... Then I'll PLUCK their eyeballs like bloody grapes on my sword! I'll SHOVE my blade down their throats with the meat still attached, then BURN them to death! Once they reform, I'll repeat over and over until they ENJOY THE TASTE!"

A final straight punch into the stone shattered the raging murderer's knuckles. Letting the blood drip from his revealed bones, he drank from his Estus Flask without changing his bloodthirsty expression.

 _That is a dangerous man._ was the shared thought among the witnesses. Amon tried to give some hope.

"I understand your concern. But maybe there is a way to recover them ? Our souls were taken, so it stands to reason that procuring and integrating more souls, might repair the damage." In response, Alrof scratched his beard anxiously. Theorizing was not his forte: "Sure. That could work. But then why are we affected and not this fellow ?" Brave Siegward lowered his head. He felt responsible for the current mood. What with having revealed such a ploy and spreading dissent among the Unkindled. "I am very sorry to hear about your losses. But I swear to you, I have awakened in the same state as I was, identical in every way to the moment before my very own Linking of the Fire. Nothing of note to say apart from the strange burn I suffered. I wish I could have joined you earlier and clear things up with the ten of you."

So, no clue was given as to why they had awakened or why their condition was thus. But Siegward just said how many Ashen Ones there were ? Interesting. "Ten, of us ?' repeated Amon "Must I understand you observed our group ?". Unmoved, Siegward stretched his arms as he explained. "Why I did. I saw your strife against an Abyss-riddled armor. You achieved victory despite this... soul-theft I believe. I must commend your bravery. I faced him myself, and while I had a much easier time around, I trust its threat to you felt formidable."

Many things were to be considered here... Siegward could have see their fight, and Gundyr had been reborn while they weren't watching. Those statements he brought now gave more riddles to uncover, and it is yet another Ashen one who had to look for answers. "You were awakened before us, and were close enough to see us ?" inquired Aveny. A nod from the voluminous helmet gave confirmation. This admission discomforted the party. Especially the assassin who was growing suspicious and whose anger had not yet subsided. "Oh really ? Then why didn't you come to our aid as you did now? You watched us and chose not to help us like the good knight you claim to be!" accused Kieran

Saddened by the loss of gratitude from those he rescued, Siegward looked down in regret. "Well... I am loathe to admit, my joining you in battle earlier, was impossible..."

"How so ?" asked a calmer sorcerer.

Siegward placed himself in a better position and cleared his throat, he began his story as Champion of Ash from the beginning: "From a clear toll of the bell I awoke, to found myself in quite the predicament. My coffin had been misplaced on the side of Lothric's wall. Not the edge, the side. As if a great being had thrown the stone container against the castle, and made it embedded in the stones. I can imagine who, but not understand why... Anyhow, had I jumped down directly, I would have perished without a doubt! And so there I sat, on my own coffin, weighting my options. Twas quite the comfortable stone I should say."

"Yes, almost like a mother's embrace." concurred the old Gyron. "Ah, the feel of those ancient holders, it could do to deem them doughy indeed.". A very confusing thing to say. All present looked at the old man like he had just stepped in a dung pie. Gyron, unsettled, tried to explain. "Just a little alliteration in "d" I came up with. A man has to find occupation somehow...".

So... While the other Unkindled had been eager to leave their vessels swiftly, Gyron had prefer to remain on his for a period, long enough to come up with an assonance apparently... Awkward. Anyways, the adventurous knight cleared his throat before adding more depth to the tale. "There is more, there were other empty vessels placed in a similar situation to mine, stuck on the wall. It seems they had been opened before the ten tolls that brought you back to this land. It is all very confusing, I have to admit.""

There were more Unkindled still ? And they had already departed ? Something new everyday in this doomed strange land... "How did you get down ? Armor is heavy..." asked Volke, for once.

Siegward honestly responded: "So it is, yes. But I had an ingenious idea. It arrived long after you disappeared from sight however, and it carried great risk. I almost sacrificed my beloved shield on the wall. I used its spike to penetrate the walls and let my weight bring it alongside me. The act slowed my descent however slightly. Then my trusty armor rolled along the slope and the rocks, saving me from the embarrassment of death, as it did, so many times before. It didn't save me from becoming wet however, I landed in a body of water and I became completely muddied. Thus was I forced to dry my belongings before joining Firelink Shrine. A knight of Catarina couldn't show himself in so sorry a state after all. Hohohohooohohoho!"

The cheerful laughter brought a bit of solace in the minds of the six adventurers. So carefree was the man, so full of life was his voice. He was a mature yet driven chevalier, who would never let anguish take hold. As resplendent as the very Sun. Aveny held her fist against her chest in a silent prayer, hoping the Sun would wash away her doubts.

"And you stood against the big man afterwards ?" wondered a red-headed axeman. Alrof always kept the important parts in mind.

"Oh yes, Ser Gundyr had reappeared in the circle I had seen from my perch. I had to clear him away to earn my very own coiled sword. As I mentioned, he seemed like a fine adversary, but I was surprised how his blows felt no more than a trifling push. Mayhap your victory over him made his strength wither further away ? In the end, no match for a Knight of Catarina. " he answered with unhidden pride.

Some things were learned, while others had become much stranger. Gyron was actively trying to make sense of what they had just heard while Aveny intently watched the good knight, hoping to remember something, anything. Two of the warriors, Alrof and Kieran, were uncertain whether to believe the man. It was then that Amon gave a proposition.

"Can you let us discuss a moment ?"

"Oh... Go ahead, I'll think about what more I could share in the meantime."

Mumbing serenely, Siegward let the group gather around the chainmail-wearing noble. They formed a small circle. His arms crossed, Amon spoke softly to the smartest man in the group.

"Master Gyron, what of your findings ?"

"He mentioned the coiled sword and that he fought that monstrous Gundyr. The Iudex' awakening is no surprise given what his soul tell us about his duty, and I already gathered that ser Hawkwood from the Shrine had his very own contraption. You heard him. He told Aveny how he had already journeyed far along the Unkindled's path. Thus he must be using a different coiled sword than the one Aroth plunged in the Shrine. It would seem the ten of us share not only the same affliction, but the same link with Fire. We are bound in a way I cannot fully explain."

"So everything he said is true ? Why isn't everything simple and clear ? I'm having a headache..." complained Alrof who'd rather fight a hundred Hollows than focus on the ways of the world.

"You saw his strength, he hasn't lost a sliver of his former self. All the souls he integrated have remained, so he surpasses us in every way. It's all too convenient. Do you really think he'd waste time with us if he didn't know of our weakening beforehand ?"

Aveny defended Siegward.

"Let us have faith in our savior. Knights of Catarina could never lie, even if they willed it. He is willing to share everything he knows in earnest. The Sun merely shined his way to us at the adequate time."

The man had rescued them, that was a fact.

"Let me do the questioning, we need more details before we can conclude as to his role in our fate." proposed Amon who seemed more confident, he had already processed everything and wasn't troubled in the least, as should be expected from his noble education.

And so Amon asked the questions:

"If I may, Ser Siegward, how many coffins were placed up along with yours ?"

"Ah, yes. I believe there were four of them. All placed in a tedious position, but all were emptied. Quite confusing, but this can be expected when a Fire is fading."

Kieran affirmed the following:

"If we assume one of them was that crestfallen dolt back at the shrine, then there are two more full-fledged Unkindled with their souls intact. Still out there, foraging the land with quite the lead over us."

Friends or Foes ? And if they managed to find the Lords first, what would become of the group's purpose ? Amon continued his investigation.

"You share the same quest as us. To find the Lords of Cinders ?"

"I am a Lordseeker, that is an Unkindled's true purpose, my duty, and my promise."

He seemed to have been given this quest by the Firekeeper as well.

"Will you accompany us then ?"

"Hum... Now that I think of it, I better not. I hope my leaving you isn't making you cross."

A surprising response. The man's personality seemed to make him viable for assistance. "What about rallying together as you said in the beginning ?" snarkily commented Kieran.

Rising from the scaly seat, Siegward started warming his body with a few exercises as he gave his reasons: "Believe me, I have your best interests in mind. But you need to become a little stronger to face this journey." He started by some leg lunges on the left, then on the right. "I must say, your performance until I arrived wasn't much to look at. Ambushed, encircled, struggling. I can't have your deaths on my conscience. And so, I invite you to train a bit more. Ooh... Ah" Now for the hamstring stretch. It was amazing how flexible the Catarina armor could be. "My repeated interventions would go against your growth. Mmmh... I can see the confusion in your eyes, and I can only hope you find answers down the road. Going our separate ways now is best for all of us. Oh, and Milady Aveny! I hope your memories return soon, for we have much to talk about." Jumping back on his feet after a physical prowess of quick sidesteps, he saluted the fellowship. "And so... Until we meet again! Prove yourselves, and I'll gladly share a drink then."

The invincible knight left, heading into the tower from which a lantern-wielder had come. From below their feets, six Undead could hear the screams of Hollows and the destruction of furniture. Better not to be in the way of this man who wished he could have shared a cup with them in earnest. But that was another mystery to solve.

 _A drink ?_ thought the Ashen Ones. Their Undead forms were already fully acquainted with the fact that they could never taste anything except their yellow or blue Estus. Anything else couldn't be fully appreciated. So, perhaps the word was probably symbolical in nature, not referring to some beloved and distant alcohol. "Hardest part of being Undead is not being able to have a drink..." sighed the not-so-Ardent Alrof. Hopefully, they won't regret missing this strange opportunity. But until then, they had to go back to the bonfire and prepare for a second delve into the High Walls. But not before they made the most of this first attempt.

They started perusing the battlefield for remains. There was no glowing corpse or special items in the large area, but they did secure a longsword and a helmet, which Aveny refused to wear for some reason. "I want to feel the thousand kisses of Sunlight penetrate my mind!" she protested, as sparkles danced on her smooth scalp. "Tis your decision, but I urge you to wear it on our second attempt. Your safety, as the sole healer of the group, needs to be ascertained" insisted Amon.

"Let us wear what we want, we may not have all our memories, but we have quite the experience." proclaimed Alrof in her stead.

Meanwhile Kieran noticed a strange object on the last cadaver.

"Is this a titanite ?" questionned the scholarly Gyron, intrigued as he ought to be.

Alrof asked for a look and watched its every angles closely:

"Sure is, it's weird and all cubic-like, but it feels strong and I can feel it breathe. I'll keep it, and ask the blacksmith for details later."

Another Unkindled, Volke, had climbed up the tower's stairs to see if the Hollow grenadiers were protecting anything. He returned after a few seconds. "Binoculars... Nothing else..." he announced. The Withdrawn thief kept showing a clear lack of excitement. And now, there was nothing more to do, except for the exploration of another passage into the tower, but they had no reason to risk it yet. They were not at full power, physically from the ambush and mentally from the discussion.

"Shall we return to the bonfire ? Given the difficulty we faced, it is very likely Aroth's smaller group has retreated as well." suggested the blue-robed woman. The pale noble pulled out his club in case some Hollows had escaped Siegward's might. "Agreed. This first expedition does not bode well at the moment. But we have things of great importance to share with the others, if they be alive and well still..." Emphasis was made on the _well_ , for death is not the end of a victim under the Undead Curse.

-~o~-

A short while ago, six Unkindled had headed on the left. The group of four that remained had departed to the right. And they were having so simple a time that they indulged in casual conversation.

"You come from Carim then. I heard of it. They say its knights are cruel and that many jewels

"I cannot speak for the evolving state of my country. Though I will admit that most of our numbers had... peculiar ways of socializing. And you must originate from the far East."

"Ah. What gave it away ?"

"The accent, I met a few warriors who accentuated syllables in a manner similar to yours."

"What about you, herald ? It's Pavel, right ?"

The short-haired lancer was still keeping his adversary at bay, but didn't seem to require help. "Hup!" he shouted Pavel in all seriousness. His spear flew forward and landed right into the mouth of the last remaining Hollow. "Tis my name." he confirmed as he walked towards his dead prey. "I lived as a guardian for a forlorn monastery, whose location wouldn't make a mark on your memories. It had been my home for many years, before I fell to the Curse and left on the sacred Quest." He removed his spear from the skull of the fallen soldier. Looking to the left, he inspired in awe: "Would you behold this sight. This city must have been quite thriving. It is almost as glorious as legendary Anor Londo. You should be familiar with the City of the Gods ser Aroth.".

"I am." conceded Aroth. "Twas still striving under the Sun no matter how long of a time had passed. But here, the Undead Curse brought a kingdom low." He moved his sword down a Hollow's chest an instant later.

There had been only three active hostiles on the short path, hidden behind a steel grid. The rest were praying below wooden statues that showed another Hollow, fused to a wooden pike. The sculpture almost felt alive as it reached out to a distant place, above the citadel. Osadin, Swiftly cut down praying Hollows around it, expressionless. He was most likely looking for a challenge. Pavel, who was used to the sight of lieu of prayers, gave his thoughts on the matter.

"Have you noticed how they all seem to pray towards this great dome in the distance, giving no regard for intruders ? And how they abandoned the statue of a woman behind ? This shape must be from a former deity. What manner of new religion could have appeared in the past, for them to carry such worship into their afterlife. 'Tis sad commentary on the state of an Undead existence at least."

"Agreed, my friend. They still hold true to Gertrude's teachings, despite the ages gone by and the curse settling in, poor souls..."

Surprise ensued.

"What did you just say ?" asked Osadin who was cleaning his twin-blades.

"It was... Can you repeat what I shared ?"

Pavel obliged his companion

" _They still hold true to Gertrude's teachings_ , who might that be ? You shared how you burned away long ago, when Lordran still stood. So how would you know whom the citizens from a later age worshipped ?"

The knight's head was starting to hurt as he focused on those words... But nothing came to him despite the efforts. He painstakingly replied:

"I have no idea... Gods... But there's no denying it now, I must be familiar with Lothric. More to it than meets the eye, and more to me... Osadin, is it the same for the Sword Master ?"

Stopped in their track, the three fighters gathered around to converse more.

"Possibly... Or we simply have a horrible case of déja vu." jested Osadin. The swordsman was growing more confident as he slaid more enemies and grasped more souls.

The disgusting noise of a handaxe shattering a praying skull interrupted any continuation. Carra was getting impatient.

"Ah'm sick of these talks. Just clear da way and find stuff. We'll speak when we go back."

Speaking of back, Carra noticed immediately how a crossbow wielder had risen above them. Hidden from the sight at the bonfire by a broken wall. She wasted no time conjuring her flame and threw a hot projectile square on the ambushers head. The poor dead sod was still burning as the pyromancer continued her rant.

"Look. Ya've got memory problems, that's bad, 'aight. But we got bigger problems, like bein' very weak compared ta before, or that there's an infestation of dead people ta kill, or that there's a world ta save. So we move out and think later."

How annoying. While the green-haired lass was making some sort of sense, she wasn't very... let us say... tactful. And being cautious about the state of oneself was of great importance during so great a journey. Aroth was willing to put her in her place, but chose not to. For that was something the whole group should witness.

But also because an angered pyromancer was not a pleasant sight.

The four passed by the strange Hollow markers without uttering a word.

Moments later, from a set of stairs behind a short stone barriers, wailings could be heard, issued from below. Two Hollows, taller than their peers, were rising from the way to a smaller tower, slowly. One had a gigantic axe that would make a certain force of nature quite happy, while the other wielded a halberd in decent condition.

"Big fellas, look right naughty." observed Carra without much fear.

"Nice weapons. Shall we test our luck with their bodies ?" commented the confident Osadin.

"Haro, companions, let us prove our worth." encouraged the brave Aroth.

Pavel joined the front silently. Steadfast and ready.

And so the Champions of Ash entered the new conflict. While a fireball stopped the halberd-wielder in his track, Aroth aggroed the other by striking his own shield with pommel of his longsword.

"Come forth and taste our steel!" he commanded the powerful carcass.

Bringing down a great slab of iron onto the taunting foe, the Hollow missed by quite the margin, leaving his side open for a quick stab to the heart by the knight. The corpse, unfazed, lifted the giant axe quickly to retaliate. Only to receive two swords that opened his right side and let the old blood flow.

Osadin's act made the Hollow launch his attack in the direction of the new threat. Not out of pain, but out of reflex. Osadin dodged that hasty horizontal blow by ducking. The wide action allowed Aroth to backstab the Hollow. There is power in number.

The Hollow falling on his knees, a back slash from thethe easterling, along with a short scream, separated the head of the Axe-wielder, finally. And luckily enough, a reward was left on the corpse.

The Greataxe was still available, and most of all, palpable. Osadin smiled as he quickly placed it in his inventory, as it was now soul-bound to him, for now. He knew exactly who would appreciate the gift.

The two heroes had finished just in time to witness a freshly burned Hollow's throat being pierced by Pavel's two-handed thrust. Nothing appeared this time. A pity. The herald tossed his target aside, retrieved the wooden spear, and addressed the companions.

"We are triumphant, let us continue."

And so they did. Heading down the stairs, two sleeping Hollows were brought into a deeper slumber by the frightful four.

But their bravery was stopped by the most powerful ennemy they could encounter as accursed Undead.

"A door..."

A steel frame was barring the way. Nothing of note except for the beams that held it sealed tight.

"Let's have faith."

Carra tried to make the door move, but she soon gave up on her efforts:

"Damn it! Ah can't make it budge."

"Twould seem the contraption was soul bound to be opened from the other side." theorised Pavel.

This was a common occurrence for the Undead. They could interact with only a few things in this world, and were forced to follow the flow of continuity. In this case, the door had always been opened by someone manipulating the door from the other side, where the steel beam was placed. Reaching out to it from their side ended in the pyromancer's failure.

"That's some right bother... Da ones who made da Curse must be havin' a right laugh right 'bout now."

Pavel observed the insides of the tall and slim building. There was something familiar inside. A lever and som rope going down it a hole. The unmistakable form of an lift.

"Miss Carra, do you believe you can climb down ? Use the elevator from below ?"

The response was given immediately.

"Ya daft ? Ah may be a genius at climbin', but those walls are older than... Than... Bugger me, I'm sick of this. They're jus' stupidly old an' friable that's what." barked Carra.

A new memory impossible to recall ? Her refusal was genuine at least.

"Onward then.." said Aroth.

Heading back upstairs, but not without noticing a glowing corpse and securing some souls, they reached the bottom of a large tower wall. They advanced prudently, prepared for an ambush. The top of the tower was very similar to the resting place with the onfire.. Except for the presences.

Surely enough, they noticed creatures in the back of the plaza.

Three dogs, Undead dogs, whose organs had all but disappeared. They had awakened upon smelling the new arrivals. And their dried throats emitted disgusting sounds of want. They ran towards the Unkindled ones, true horrors with swift movements and relentless envy.

Pavel and Aroth raised their shield and let the fangs and claw be stopped between the stairs and the remains of walls.

"Carra!" yelled Aroth as they struggled to keep the monsters in the same spot.

Understanding, immediately, the pyromancer extended her hand between the two vanguards. With a flick of the wrist she let out a small explosion of flames that engulfed two of the Undead canines.

Convulsing frenetically, the two dogs retreated and bumped into the last remaining animal. Making the fire spread. They all fell back into the stairs were a knight's sword and a handaxe welcomed them.

A scary situation, but rapidly resolved all in all.

Up ito the plaza, there was no morethreat left except for a bare-chested hollow, kneeled before the corpses of his brethrens. Many of his brethrens.

"This is strange. Carra, if you so please."

Barely a step forward from the swamp-witch was needed before the Hollow's back produced a great black mass. It spread out from every pore; replacing the arm by a black head, wide tentacles replacing the rest, and glowing eyes peering into their souls. Only Hollowed legs could remind them of the former form of the infested piece of Man.

The sudden apparition reminded them of the Iudex. The Abyss runneth deep it would seem, for it to reach even the skies of Lothric.

Aroth noticed how strongly Pavel was shaking. Dying against Gundyr, and the memories of his past, those weights would surely drive him to perish anew.

 _Not on my watch._ thought Aroth Arklaw. He rushed to his side and forced him to listen, as he had done so for new recruits bac in Carim.

"Keep calm. Those things fear fire remember ? Keep back until you see an opening."

Slower than Gundyr, the Pus of Man had barely advanced before a fireball turned it into a walking tornado of burning flesh.

The opportunity allowed Osadin and Aroth to land a few hits on the dangling limbs. They retreated immediately, their experience with Gundyr had left valuable lessons.

A fit of rage made the creature balance its head and large black limbs towards the group, repeatedly and with impossible strength. This assault was more intense than anything they faced before, but keeping their distance was all the group needed. At the end of the rampage, an new fire ball was sent and more damage was done.

But the more they retreated, the less space was left to escape the monster, and they couldn't have that. While Aroth wasn't in immediate danger, his experience told him that they shouldn't take any more risks. They would need more space.

"His limbs have a long range, retreat to the wall!" he roared with the voice of a general.

ANd so the four Unkindled ran to the stairs, while the monster had lunged at Osadin who was placed furthest form the exit. He wasn't called Swift for nothing, of course, and he escaped the closing grasp of the Abyssal One in time.

The infestation followed the group mechanically. Sure enough, it became stuck in the set of stairs, the infected Hollow was forced to move his black matter around, like one of those swamp slugs trying to fit between the rocks. That's what Carra thought as she threw a third fireball from her new position.

On fire once again, a big lump of Darkness ran towards the young woman, disregarding the rest of the team.

Seeing the opportunity, Osadin cut off the ankles of the host of the Pus of Man. Unbalanced, it fell hard on the ground, quite comically. Now he really looked like a slug. Slow and easy to burn. And burn it did, after Carra finished replenishing her focus through a sky-blue Estus Flask. The wringling monster was starting to regress in size, but was still struggling for dear unlife.

Only one blow was needed to end it.

"Well then, he's all yours Pavel. Make the Way of White proud." offered Aroth.

Pavel breath longly, and charged forward. Jumping into the Abyss' back, he plunged his spear deep into the horned head. Perfectly piercing an eye, he blinded it forever, snuffing the life out of the pestilent monstrosity in the same occasion.

Regressing back into the tedious body it had exited, the enemy was felled. A demise confirmed by a new addition of souls for each members of the crew.

"Easier than expected, keep your distance, fire at will, and the Abyss falls as anything else." appreciated Osadin, with the same demeanor he had adopted since the departure of the small group.

"So it does. " admitted a relieved Pavel.

He seemed to produce a smile for the fraction of an instant.

"Brings back memories ah'm sure." alleged Carra with an accusative tone.

She didn't imply anything positive, that was certain. And the faint chance of additional smiles was lost. Pavel turned to his benefactor and bowed slightly.

"Thank you for the opportunity ser Aroth." he thanked the young noble. "I am unsure as to the origin of my terror, but I believe I may face it fully in a short time."

"Think on it, friend. We need each other more than we can imagine... What's this now ?"

Over the corpse of the restored Hollow, there was something new.

"What is this ?" repeated Osadin.

They observed two things on the cadaver. One was the unmistakable form of a small titanite shard, while the other was a strange object. Long and seemingly made of burned wood, it was still emanating fumes and producing small sparkles of red light. Like the remains of firewood that never went extinct.

"It's burning ? So it's mine." said Carra.

She took her prize before anyone could retort, but there was no urgency, she would have to share this discovery with the renewed group later.

Now that the abomination had fallen with no great trouble, they were free to explore the rest of the tower. After reaching into the light of a forlorn corpse, they found a longbow and some arrows. Strange find given crossbow seemed to be the norm here.

"Must have come from a hunter." supposed the Swift martial artist.

Osadin took hold of them for now. And they soon realised there was not much else to visit in this path.

"Nothing else here, apart from the statues of a woman we can see everywhere along with the impaled Hollows." observed Aroth after going back from behind the structure.

"They look fused rather than impaled. And you don't remember about her Aroth ?"

Focused on the hooded figure of the statue, Aroth couldn't recall anything. The only thing certain was that the woman was a motherly figure of great beauty. Perhaps was it Gwynevere, daughter of Lord Gwyn ? There was no way to know for certain, and Pavel hadn't recognised her either."

"Nothing jumps out at me, for now. I wonder what could help in my recollection ?"

"So do I..." said Osadin.

A bit of confusion, a strange ember, a great-axe, a long-bow, and a small supply of souls... that was all they could bring back with them to the bonfire. That was all they should do given they couldn't proceed further.

"So... Shall we retreat ?" proposed Pavel as he put away his spear.

"We shall, hopefully the others had better providence." confirmed the Arklaw.


	11. Ill-Willed Deduction

What is fate ?

When faced with occurrences without clear causal relationship, leading to a peculiar phenomenon, one cannot be faulted for believing in an exterior force at play. That everything that occurred was meant to be... Was fated to be...

There are some who would simply consider such events as coincidences, and they could be correct. But for extreme believers of the acts of the gods, every single event can be linked to their enlightened will. Every single happenstance is merely the product of fate.

Anyways, the two groups appeared from the two sets of stairs at the same time, more or less...

The smaller group was in a better shape overall, while the other had some visible damage. For instance, Gyron's robe had been thoroughly burned, Aveny looked exhausted, and there was blood on Kieran's fist. The pain didn't seem to bother the Ruthless killer all that much. In the end, everyone was still alive and sane.

Alrof and Carra were the first to converse.

"Oy scruffy. How are da kids ?" she said nonchalantly.

Scratching his beautiful beard, Alrof gave the best answer he could produce.

"Uh... Hey little missus. A bit shaken, but that's what we adults are here for, I guess..."

This little scene produced a small impact on the mood; small giggles and twitches here and there.

"Touching..." said a relaxed Amon. "On a more serious note, we have new and vital informations to disclose. Let us prepare for the retelling of our respective short stories, shall we ?"

Aveny and Osadin were the more appeased of their respective groups, especially amused by the fact that the groups had returned at the same time. The two conversed privately about some boring philosophical significance while the others were occupied with more grounded matters. Gyron showed Aroth and Carra his burned clothes and issued some complaints about its personal worth. Volke and Pavel went off as to gather some chairs and furnitures from the corner of the are; the campfire would at least _look_ like a campfire now. The others rested at the bonfire. They switched position when new appliances arrived.

After a few minutes, all was ready, and the perimeter seemed secure enough. A circle of Unkindled Ones was ready to converse.

Aroth had removed his helmet, which had incited the same action among his fellow Unkindled:

Alrof's short red-hair was spiked and greasy because they had been covered by his steel headpiece for so long. Pavel had brown-hair trimmed shorter still, perfectly aligned on his forehead. Kieran removed his hood, it let his long ebony bang cover more of his sane eye while the rest fell flat on the ears. Volke only removed the mask above his mouth to show a bit of his young tattooed face.

The black-haired noble who had removed his chainmail bounced back on track:

"Our exploration isn't finished as of yet, but we have much to tell. In order to end on a high note, I believe your group should start. Any fortune on yonder passage ?"

The knight of Astoran origin explained:

"The tower over yonder lays in ruins with no hope of crossing. On another path below, there is... a steel barred door..."

Since his brother left some details, Amon knew their was some embarrassment in hiding. And so, with a raised eyebrow, the pale-skinned noble gave an presumption.

"Only opened from the other side ?"

The confirmation from his brother came after a small pause.

"Yes..."

There was nothing more to say.

The Steadfast Pavel wisely joined the conversation with a hopeful tune:

"Apart from that disappointment, we brought a pleasant bounty. Show them, friends."

And so Osadin showed everyone a newly acquired longbow. Kieran and Volke showed an interest, but they declared they had no need for it.

The best reaction would be from the weapon Aroth had integrated earlier.

Appearing out of nowhere, a gigantic axe fell on the floor of the tower, right next to the plated leggins of the knight of Carim. Its length reaching the seated men's shoulders, it's width similar to the fallen drake's head, and the body as thick as a human skull. It was radiating power despite its obviously aged state, and the lack of strengthening materials.

A admirative whistle was given by a young pyromancer. A powerful praise to the Sun was enacted. And a long blue beard was caressed in silence.

Finally, upon seeing this tool of destruction, the axeman could only guffaw:

"AH! AHAHAHA! Marvelous! It's for me, right ?"

Indeed, Aroth pushed the heavy hilt towards Alrof. The strongman had stood up in order to lift it here and there, and immediately lost his balance, letting it fall halfway between his fur-bound legs.

Recovering the great chunk of iron and placing it upwards, the proud Faraam warrior made it spin on the ground a bit, admiring the faded carvings and feeling the rigid hilt in his grasp. Appreciative, he turned towards his benefactor.

"My thanks. I can't even carry it with my two hands yet, but I swear it shall be put to good use."

A nod gave confirmation for this oath.

The Greataxe disappeared, absorbed by the Ardent Undead, and Pavel once again urged to go back to the stories:

"Then what news from the six of you ? What news from your short adventure ?"

Basking in the Sun that had yet to set, the Zealous cleric answered:

"Early in our quest, we encountered a breed of hollow who could galvanise the normally praying masses into a deadly force. The first area was easily cleared. Then, there were two path forward; over the tower, or into its darkness. We chose the way to the top. There, a true army of stood in our way, and our carelessness led to its awakening."

Aveny prayed for a few seconds before continuing:

"Ambushed from higher grounds, we became surrounded on all sides by the fully awakened horde. Things looked grim for us all as Master Gyron became badly injured. It is only through the bravery of a knight of the Sun that we escaped from certain demise. While the path forward could be cleared by our savior, we found it more prudent to retreat."

A tilt from the heads, and the commotion between the group forced an elaboration. It came from the burned sorcerer who calmly explained:

"We met another Unkindled. A brave knight of Catarina who rescued us from countless Hollows. But it is our discussion with him afterwards that might interest you. Apparently, he had met our Zealous Aveny before..."

"But she didn't remember him..." finished Osadin with his arms crossed.

"Ho ho, so you have an idea on the matter." Kieran commented.

Aroth raised his hand to grab everyone's attention.

"Twould seem by body remembers Lothric. Unnatural words and a deep familiarity could be felt from our earliest steps. Thus do I believe to have been to Lothric before. However, I have no conscious thought that might confirm this claim, for now."

There was a new fit of discussion from this declaration, each of the Ashen Ten wanting to add their thoughts on the matter.

Raising his hand and whistling a painful note, Kieran made them all turn their head and change the subject:

"Good to have confirmation, but there's more to say about our mess."

It was then that Aveny noticed the state of Kieran's raised appendage. While the bonfire had restored the bones and flesh, some positions were... unnatural. As a healer, Aveny grew concerned:

"Your hand... The fingers are not correctly placed. May I ?" she offered.

But the man told her off:

"I'll do it myself, let me talk."

Kieran was now putting the bones of three of his fingers in their rightful place as he added to the report:

"There's more to consider, dear comrades." _Brrrk..._ "That Onion wasn't weakened in the least." _Krrrrk..._ "He slayed Gundyr easily, cut Hollows down like thin pieces of cloth, but assured us he never felt altered before awakening, shortly before us." _Pak..._ "In short, someone stole OUR souls to weaken us all, specifically, and also took our memories for good measure. Either that or the fat Onion is also the powerful warlock that steals powers and we are all doomed."

Aveny and Amon didn't seem to appreciate the assassin's disdain against the brave knight of Catarina. But Gyron had overtaken their turn.

"Or maybe memories are linked to the lost souls, like Lord Amon supposed. There is only one way to tell: some of us should return to the Shrine to test whether integrating a large amount of souls is enough to produce remembrance."

Amon kept silent as this proposition permeated the fellowship. Each of the warriors and sages were now discussing with their direct neighbours. And one particular member was irritated by the idea. Guess which one...

"Sure, give some gobs an excuse to gobble more souls why don't ya." rebuked Carra who had activated her Pyromancy Flame to pass the time.

Aroth made use of his remaining speck of leadership.

"At ease. We will choose the representatives after we finish our tales. Have we forgotten anything ?" he said.

Seating on one of the more comfortable chairs, Gyron let had his joints recover and worries wash away. He was now quite aware and energetic and happily completed the story.

"Young Volke found some binoculars, the Hollow army left us lesser shards of titanite, and we secured a nice amount of souls. My charred sleeves won't grow back, but that issue would have to wait. There is nothing more to add." he said.

It was then that Aroth remembered something and called out:

"Hold."

The party held, and the knight turned towards the woman of the Great Swamp.

"Carra, can you show us the burning shard you found ?"

The green-haired missus placed her hand forward as she searched internally. She presented the steaming piece it from the tips of her fingers. And in so doing, was powerless to stop Aroth's quick act; he grabbed the ember with his steeled hand.

"Hey! Why'd ya do that!" she protested in a high voice.

Ignoring her, Aroth explained as he turned the object around.

"Does anyone know what this is ?"

None, not even Amon and Kieran who were most familiar with recent times, seemed to know the answer. But the Learned Gyron had a proposition at the ready.

"Well, young knight of Carim, I suggest you ask an experienced Unkindled for this."

"Good idea. The Shrine has a despondent fool available, no ? I bet he has all of his head, for now." proposed Kieran with a sinister grin.

Osadin got back on his feet and stretched his arms. He

"Well then, our next order of business is to choose who goes back to the Shrine while the rest of use go back to training."

The clever Lawless Amon gave an immediate proposal:

"I say Aroth and Alrof take care of business: check the memory issue, repair some equipment, and discuss with ser Hawkmood."

"Hawkwood." corrected someone from the assembly.

"Hawkwood, pardon me. A little lapsus... While the rest of us will gather materials and souls for later use. Any objection ?"

There was none.

"That didn't take long." noticed the warmongering Alrof.

"Good." said a very slightly relieved Carra. She heated her handaxe on her flaming hand, yearning for action.

And so, items requiring attention were given to the two chosen warriors. Pavel entrusted the broken shield. Volke gave a broken sword, although Aroth doubted it could be saved. Then came the matter of a burned cloak.

"Let me hold on to your garb master Gyron. Andre will know what to do."

The Dragon School scholar wasn't very eager to part ways with his old robe.

"He's a blacksmith, he can't also be a tailor ? And my robe is very valuable."

Amon defended his countryman.

"Do not underestimate his craft. He is as ancient as he skilled."

So, the old man gave his half destroyed robe, leaving the deep blue coat underneath to the open air. The bonfire had repaired the undergarment fully, but only an expert could save the robe now.

"Whaddaya mean by valuable ?" inquired a curious Carra.

"I wore it ever since I left the Dragon School. I never parted with it, I slept with it everywhere and used it everyday. For sleeping or other... The point is, I like it very much."

Following those details, Aroth placed the robe in , trying not to touch any... suspicious area.

"Miss Aveny, we need more details on your encounter. Whether his awakening was similar to ours and what not."

"Happy to help."

While the two converse, groups were formed for the coming skirmishes. An example of that was from the Steadfast Pavel who approached a confident swordsman.

"There was an Undead with an interesting weapon. I wish, to have it, though I fear twill require much slayings."

"An' I'll go with you in case there's some black goo ta scare off." offered Carra, in her abundant generosity.

Osadin nodded and they headed out, but not before noticing Volke who was pensively looking into the distance.

Pavel, worried about the lack of participation from the formerly Hollowed youngster, approached the youngest of the group.

"Volke ? You have been awfully quiet... quieter... lately. Is something wrong ?"

Putting his mask back on, the young thief responded weakly:

"I've got things to do... Tell you later..."

That was all he shared before heading to the path undertaken by the larger group.

"Someone's eager to get started. I'll go and cut down those praying Undead while you and, Carra deal with the big ones."

"Killin' some immobile corpses, that's awful brave of ya. Got some beef with da gods ? Want me ta help stop some true believers ?"

"That is not what I meant... And they are not even worshipping our usual gods. Aroth said earlier that they follow the teachings of someone named..."

Osadin stopped when he noticed Carra had almost closed her eyelids in a very dismissive manner. Her face screamed ' _get to da bloody point'_.

The easterling sighed and concluded:

"Feel free to come along and uhm... burn people."

All the necessary informations had now been received by Aroth and Alrof, and it was time for them to go. The two approached the bonfire.

"Fellow Unkindled. We return to the Shrine while you do as you see fit. Train and explore at your leisure, but I urge you not to venture farther than we went."

Once the two disappeared among the fumes, all departed from the little encampment.

-~o~-

The Firekeeper bowed to the two men in silence, the candle-lit place seemed unchanged since the short time they left.

"Greetings Milady. We are only here for a short time, worry not."

Aroth bent his back in reverence, and Alrof imitated him. Though it felt weird to act this way to a _blind_ lady. Aroth addressed his friend without delay.

"I'll leave you to it."

"Aye."

The axeman nodded.

The noble nodded back.

The two went their separate ways.

Above the stairs where Aroth placed his gaze, a crestfallen man wasn't looking up, still entranced in his sorrow and letting time pass in silence.

When Aroth reached the bottom of the stairs and said a formal greeting, the man reacted finally. After a quick look around, he declared his usual disinterested tone:

"Well... There are less of you than before. Why would that be..."

With a wave of his hand, Aroth dismissed the jest. He walked up the stairs and found a place to sit upon.

"Our comrades are safe, I am here to confirm some important matters."

"Ask away. I have, eh, not much else to do."

Now Aroth had to choose his words with a modicum of care. The man could lie to his face or refuse to speak altogether. And if his suspicions are true, that Hawkwood is as strong as the Catarina knight Aveny described, then he'd have no chance should he aggro the ancient soldier.

"Where did you awaken exactly ?"

"That is a good question. I awoke in a stone coffin, but the location was, well, interesting. My resting place was strung up high away on Lothric's wall, alongside other coffins. Thankfully, I was agile enough to reach the ground without issue."

That confirmed what he knew. Only a few more precisions were required.

"How many of your fellow Unkindled had already left those misplaced stones ?"

"I was the first, I believe. Now what do you intend to do with that information ?"

"That is a story for another time, friend. But there is more matters that I must address with you. Would you kindly lend your ear for more ?"

Slapping unentousiastically his thigh, Hawkwood acepted:

"By all means."

"When you raised yourself from the dead, were your combative abilities impaired in any way ? Was your equipment different from your last memories ? And lastly, have you forgotten anything pertaining to your history ?"

Pensively, the soldier took a time to consider the question.

"To those many questions, the answer is no. My arm was as strong as before, my old apparatus was just as you see it and no different from my past, a past I remember quite clearly. Must I assume your answer would be yes in all front ?"

"You would assume correctly. Verily, twas the most unsettling awakening the ten of us ever faced."

"I have no idea as to why such a thing happened. Then again, who am I to say what is wrong or right in this accursed land."

Confirmations, of a sort. The Ashen Ten were victims while the four remaining ancient Unkindled were spared, though they were cleared out of their path. Aroth changed his position, getting closer to the still seated individual.

"Then there is one last thing I have to ask..."

Producing the ember into his open hand, the knight twisted it around so Hawkwood could better see its shape. His answer was plain and simple.

"An ember, and something that we Unkindled yearn for."

FAmilarity, there was that.

"Would you care to elaborate ?" asked Aroth

"We Unkindled are, shall we say, incomplete. Unsurprising. Some things are lost when you are burned to cinders. But embers can fill a part of what we lost."

"So if we."

A much longer time of reflection needed, it would seem. But Aroth stayed patient, and attentive. His lecturer finally gave his thoughts.

"I am uncertain. Embers act like stimulants, they make us feel whole and make us more rooted to this world. A little like Humanity acts for the truly Undead. But they shouldn't have an effect on the state of your spirit, or on the souls you are carrying. They anchor you further into the world, but at the same time, they connect you to others."

"I see. Tell me more about this connection."

"Have you noticed enlightened writings on the ground ? Strange blood stains or colored signs ?"

"I know of those. I believe they are considered as marks from other dimensions. Now that I think about it, we never saw anything of the likes."

"Then break the ember to absorb its being. With your new state, you will be able to read the writings of otherworldly predecessors, and the soapstones will outlive their uselessness. hehehe."

The soapstones. A strange mineral that could affect time and space through mystical markings. Some could send representatives of oneself to assist in parallel lands, or produce invaders in the search for souls and bounty. Victory in new land could offer humanity and souls to the victor, boons that would return with the apparitions.

They were a solid alternative to risking lives in the original lands, though their workings was a great mystery to all.

"I know of them, and where can we procure such precious items ?" demanded Aroth confidently.

The feedback was quite simple.

"Talk to the old crone... She'd be delighted to offer those precious tools, in exchange for your precious souls. But, otherworldly assistance will never be enough to reach the Lords, and let's not mention conquering them. Go have fun with your new gimmicks."

Aroth turned back. But before his motion was completed, Hawkwood called out:

"A moment please ?"

This amount of activity was something novel.

"What is it ?"

"I must say, it is nice to talk once in a while, even if its just for formal information. But I appreciate your presence nonetheless. So thank you for passing by."

Touched by the honesty, Aroth gave his solemn words:

"I will tell the others to greet you more openly then, I assure you of our goodwill. Fare thee well."

When Aroth turned back, Alrof was already near the bonfire.

The Firekeeper was close to the strong-armed man, but they hadn't enacted the integration of souls yet.

"You've repaired the equipment I presume."

"Andre did, he works pretty fast. I never imagined someone could sew with one hand while the other keeps striking iron. Something new everyday."

Andre had the experience of multiple cycles of Fire and Dark. This was obvious since he had his sanity intact even to this day.

"You have enough soul to see if anything happens ?"

Alrof shrugged at the mention of the word _soul_.

"I'm not out but I'm far from rich in that department. You can have a go little knight." he admitted.

And so Aroth absorbed all the forlorn souls he had gathered before kneeling in front of the Firekeeper. She sensed the knight's purpose was different for this occasion.

"Thou hast apprehension. What is thine worry Noble Ash ?"

Firm and ready, there was nothing the Arklaw could do except tempt the fates.

"Fear not Milady. Let your work be done."

Choosing how the souls would permeate his being, Aroth concentrated. The Grey Lady's chant echoed in the great chamber of the Firelink Shrine. A tune from another age that penetrated the soul despite the whispering voice.

The choice was made.

The man of Astora shuddered for a second before his body seemed to gleam with energy. He had strengthened his body quite well apparently. But he

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then his blue eyes opened suddenly, stricken by epiphany.

"Ashen One ?" wondered the Firekeeper.

Aroth looked to the ceiling. He didn't seem to be pained, but had become extremely pensive. Alrof, impatient, asked him thusly:

"Feel any different ?"

Not lowering his gaze, the young knight tilted his helmeted head into his right shoulder, then the left.

"I do, new memories come to mind now. Tis a strange feeling." he announced softly.

"And ?"

Taking a deep breath, Aroth shared his finding.

"Twas but a glimpse, but sufficient... Twould seem... I never even reached the First Flame."


	12. Renewed Preparations

There is something soothing about combat. The meeting of forces, the instinct that empowers every move, the adrenaline that courses through the body. Even after ages had passed and many enemies were felled, the man named Osadin still looked forward to the next battles. The young easternling had a long history of seeking improvement.

His devotion to the art of battle had only intensified now that he had become a lesser man; with fogged memories and diminished skills. He would return to his prime and meet the Sword Master again, such was his pledge.

It is with an almost similar purpose of self improvement that he and the Steadfast Pavel defeated two towering Hollows, again, for the eighth time... A continuous absence of a desired reward left the mature herald unsatisfied.

The middle-aged warrior removed his helmet to gain some respite, he sighed: "Nothing, yet again..." Waving his bound tired arms over the halberdier's carcass, he conceded further : "Mayhap the halberd isn't soul-bound..."

Composed, a swordsman cleaned the dried black blood of his two blades using the fallen's clothings. A simple action executed with a modicum of grace, unsavory as it looked.

"The souls and titanites we obtain are a pleasant thing, no ?" He assured his comrade. "Don't fall into despair. If we fail to get it, we'll simply find some Undead with a better prize. Once the group is ready..."

Removing with difficulty the spear he had lodged between the creature's ears, the lancer replied tardively:

"I do not despair, I merely tire of repeating the same fight over and over."

They had the souls, they had the ore, all that was left was the Hollow's halbert itself. Their was still time to spare, and each attempt gave some manner of reward.

Meanwhile, the pyromancer had finished cleaning the rest of the enmity. The charred corpses of a dog pack ad the bent corpses of incinerated supplicants littered the high wall. She had gone further into the area than last time, and was now silently watching.

Pavel, diligent and kind, gave off his worry despite the woman's usually rude behavior:

"Is everything alright lady Carra ?"

She returned to herself upon hearing him and turned towards the duo. Her face, rough but quite beautiful thanks to her youth and fair figure, now showed a tired expression. Sterilising her axe's blade with her Pyromancy Flame, she answered calmly:

"Ah think said before; ah'm no Lady. Ah just never went to a big city before, it's real different from a village." Peering into the distance, her short green-hairs placed her at odds with the colours of the rooftops and the grey sky. "Why do they have ta use stones anyway ?" she said.

Osadin of the East approved the sentiment.

"A rural girl. Well I see what you mean. There is something sublime about an western country's citadel. Big buildings, grandiose statues, expensive fontains... I can't wait to see those. Although it usually hides cesspits of filth and depravities..."

"Humpf." she puffed.

A feet planted on the steps towards the ruined tower expressed her desire to advance further, and so did her words: "Still thinkin' the Abyssal worm's got more of da ember thingy. Wanna come with ?"

To this, Pavel replied:

"We tried three times and nothing new appeared from the abyssal one, only simple shards. Methinks you already took everything of value from this one."

"Right. An' killin' two bigguns lotsa times is no issue ?" she retorted.

Osadin chuckled at the remark. They had been unlucky so far, but Pavel wasn't completely thrilled by this particular encounter, each time. If anything, seing the Abyss on fire only increased his anxiety even when victory was achieved. So the man gave a complete reply.

"You have a point my dear. How about just one more try for the two of us and that's that ? As for your demand, once we reach the other side of the elevator, you'll attempt to kill the Pus of Man as many times as you like."

Without a word, Carra descended from the stairs and headed back to the camp. She hadn't protested, so there was that.

"Backward then." Pavel acquiesced.

And so the swamp keeper was followed by the two men. On the short way, Pavel hesitated whether he should simply strengthen his spear, or hope for luck to favor him next time. It was only a weapon, they could find more elsewhere, but he was familiar with the use of polearms and it seemed like the shortest path to undertake. The next attempt would be the last.

The three Undead reached the bonfire. There was only a leather-bound assassin seated in a relaxed position. Observing the approching group, the Ruthless Kieran ga

"Here they are again. That makes it a dozen successful trips for you then. Congratulations."

"Ten, actually. Are your sleeping foes and lantern wielders dealt with ?" responded Osadin with less glib.

"They are, I'm just here in advance."

The trio took seat around the flames as they were used to. Another whiff of its fumes would leave time for the Hollows to recover and get back in their cursed places. Kieran was twiddling his feet in impatience, like a young child waiting for action. Osadin addressed the killer:

"I presume you're getting bored to the enemy. I can't imagine someone like you gets satisfied over easy pickings."

"Oh yes. I yearn for fresher preys. I hope there are maddened citizens out there with soft flesh to be bled."

As could be expected, this statement produced clicking tongues and sighs. Some correction was needed.

"In self-defense of course. But there is something exhileratting about stomping on non-resisting foes. Want to come with us for this round ?"

"Err... No... thank you." declined Pavel as politely as possible.

As Kieran stepped back and began to care for his equipment, a familiar face stepped forward from the stairs.

Clad in iron mails and damaged cloth, extremely similar to the Hollows, there was no mistake as to his identity.

"Young Volke. Where have you been ?" demanded Pavel.

"Not far... Wanted to check Hollows for clothes... Nothing interesting...

"You went further than we agreed then ? I hope you haven't run into trouble.

"Not far... Saw many enemies, retreated, slept in a dark room... When do we eat souls ?"

With his thumb, Kieran indicated the other tower:

"They are still discussing back there. Marvelling about the properties of the Sun. I returned after they became unbearably chatty."

"I shall give it another go then, you can wait here."

"By yourself ? Are you certain ?"

Touching the bonfire, the Steadfast follower of the White. With confidence in his voice and closed eyes, he said:

"I know enough to defeat them with a hand tied behind my back. Should things go sour, I have firebombs. There is no trouble to be had."

"A hand tied ? Good idea that. Anyone got a rope ?" jokingly proposed the green-haired harpy.

Osadin smiled and shrugged and Kieran cackled. Pavel remained impassive, of course...

"Leave the man alone, missy. If anything happens, we can go to him in seconds. Hopefully he'll have time to scream, fuhuhu..."

Harrowing, as usual. The hired killer had regained his composure from his earlier outburst. It had already become apparent when he had brought back a Hollow to the bonfire. Something about its bones being as brittle as a ragdoll, or something of the sort. His devious behavior succeeded in convincing Pavel to depart now. He turned back and took hold of his simple spear.

"Oh, do not forget about the..." commenced Osadin.

The slim figure of Pavel jumped over the eastern wall, where it had been ripped open. A death rattle confirmed Pavel hadn't missed the crossbowman hidden therein. The man was off to a good start.

Moments later, two figures appeared from the other set of stairs. A bald woman clad in blue, and an elder in a deep-blue sorcerer coat.

"Hello again! Were you successful in your search brave Unkindled ?"

"Not yet, Pavel has just left for a final attempt."

"May the Sun and the gods watch over him." she prayed with closed eyes and a golden bell in hand.

"No need to worry about the Sun if I may say so."

Indeed, the sky hadn't changed colors nor moved away despite their long stay. Even as Undead, rest and recovery were needed. Simple necessities serving as remnants of their fading humanity. Aveny gazed at the Sun as she oftenly did.

"The Sun is still not setting, yet so much time has passed." she admitted. "It is not right for a father to overexert himself, and the same could be said of it. Time is convoluted in this land,they need salvation as soon as possible."

Resolved and with her face standing high, she turned back towards.

"Why are Ser Aroth and Ser Alrof taking so long ?"

Gyron reassured the Zealous lady.

"Firelink Shrine is a place of rest for every guest. Ignoring a man in rags... But I do not believe they would bring trouble onto themselves."

"They'll Soon, hopefully." to the whoke. "I know it's odd how before we can go shopping and soul-absorbing, we need those two's report..."

"By the by, where's Amon. Where's the handsome hunk ?"asked Carra.

Kieran also noticed the absence of the tenth member.

"Where has he gone ?" he wondered out loud in a questioning pose.

Gyron was confounded as well.

"He wasn't with you ? I thought he said he would stay behind to observe the city with Volke's binoculars."

Tilting his head and shrugging, Kieran didn't seem to know the answer.

"I'm here..." resonated an appealing voice.

Overhead, the chainmail-wearing noble was greeting the group with his leather glove.

"Honestly, dear Carra, I am flattered for your appreciation of my figure. But necessity calls for sacrifices. Maybe I'll remove my armor them once our journey produces a pause ?"

And before anyone could ask, the pale man of Carim explained himself: "After my observations, I decided to take took another glance at the small austel. We left it in quite the hurry, as you'll recall."

"And ?"

"Nothing novel. But from what I could study, I believe the Firekeeper began her office here."

That was an interesting statement, something that required explanations.

"How can you tell ?" asked Gyron almost immediately.

Arriving at the amp, Amon took place on a barrel, as if it was the most comfortable piece of furniture around. His posture was nothing if not elegant.

"Three things." he declared. "Firstly, a small Coiled Sword in a vessel. It could have only been used by a non-Undead to reach the Shrine, and Fire-Keepers are not Undead. I saw its like before if that is your question. Secondly, there was an absence of dust in the form of a circle, the same size as the fair Maiden's crown. And finally, a strands of extremely long hair. In conclusion, this fair place was used by a religious collective with the goal of to transport someone into the Shrine, and we have met only one person that answers those clues. But I'll admit it is simply an assumption for now."

Once again, Amon's intellect and charisma had impressed the group. His words were those of a well-educated high-born. Hard to believe this man ever went on a senseless murder spree. But for now, he was being very resourceful for the fellowship.

"Does this help us in any way ?"

"Not in the least. But who knows it could be a nice subject in conversation."

It was then that a male voice was heard. A scream of triumph to be precise.

"YES!"

Pavel walked up the stairs. His visage showed the same lack of emotion as usual, but the red that had come to his cheeks gave away his excitement.

"Well met, friend, you found your precious prize ?" supposed Amon.

Embarrassed, Pavel massaged his neck while trying to keep his face in check.

"Hurm... You heard me then." he said.

"We sure did, lucky bugger." commented the disappointed pyromancer.

And so the fortunate lancer showed everyone what was now bound to him. A simple halberd with a thick curved blade. A quick glance was all the group needed to end the matter. While the others started discussing other matters, Osadin approached his comrade in arms.

"You like those better than spears then ?."

"It is more of a sentiment. The place I was assigned to required keeping watch over the elders of the Order. And the only training was with our assigned weaponry. I valued those sessions, and so I valued its tools. But spears are things I used for a long time before this, I..."

"Before... Care to say more ?"

"Another time i believe. Behold." he answered with a finger pointed towards the bonfire.

Behind the swordsman, two men had finally returned. Appearing not out of thin air, but thin smoke from the burning pyre.

Alrof raised his hand to keep the approaching crowd back.

"First thing first." he declared. "The damaged goods have been cared for. Gyron's robe..." he said as he gave the cloth. "Pavel's shield, though it cost us..." Pavel received it without complaints. "And for the younguns your sword, it had been broken for too long, sorry. It's state is irreversible."

"Oh... No matter..." said a visibly saddened Volked as he accepted its return.

After all, only the truly Hollow would use a weapon in such a state. But the Withdrawn young man seemed to have ideas.

"What took ya so long ?" demanded a heated fire-wielder. Her impatience seemed shared by others.

"Ah you want to know ? We were about to head out... But then someone got curious and wanted to check on the graves again."

"It was with good intentions, I assure you. The only..."

"Oy, let me finish little knight."

While the request wasn't given with much animosity, it still shut down the man of Carim.

"So we went back into the graveyard, killed our way to the edge, and umh... What did you find again ?"

"My study of the state of the ground allowed me to realize what had transpired. Counting those encased in the city's wall, there were ten stone caskets newly planted, and four that hadn't been moved; Mine from deep into the yard, Amon's, near our first bonfire, Master Gyron's resting place, and Lady Aveny's after a watery path."

Gyron started stroking his beard:

"Those are crucial informations. Nicely done. We're closer to the truth. Then what is the issue my good man ?"

Scratching his red beard, the Ardent giant replied enthusiastically:

"I'm getting there. So, deciding to take a better look at their shape he tried climbing to get a better look."

"I had to ascertain the shape of the caskets and see if there were markings to determine what manner of being had reached down. Two long markings on the wall indicated that they used weaponry. But I'll admit it was a fool's errand."

"Sure... Another problem was how you overestimated your abilities as a climber. First you created a small rockslide. The pebbles and dust blinded me for a second, and guess what happened next."

"He fell on you ?" supposed Osadin, who was familiar with the feeling.

"I did land unceremoniously on our friend, and we both tumbled into the ground."

"Oh my..." commented Aveny

But so far, Alrof had been a bit too dramatic about this story. So much so that Amon had to inquire:

"Those things happen, is there more ?"

"Yeah, the landing part. There was muddy water at said ground. Sticky, smelly, dark grime. I was drenched in it!" Alrof started heating up. "I had silt stuck on my fur! Inside my helm! And between my buttocks! Not only was it disgusting, I became slower than ever in my life. I had to remove my armor, place it in my internal space..."

"So did I." added the guilty knight, as if sharing the embarrassment would calm the brawler's mind. It wasn't very effective.

"And guess what happened next..." continued the angry fighter.

Kieran gave a cheerful hypothesis:

"Eheh... the Hollows surprised you with your britches down."

"They had woken up, and all could see me butt-naked." confirmed an exasperated Alrof.

Snickering started being emanated from Carra and Kieran. Whispers between Aveny and Gyron told of their confusion.

Aroth tried to fall back on topic.

"But thanks to our improved conditions, their dispatch wasn't irremediable. I really fail to see the problem."

"You don't now, of course. But back there, it was among the most pathetic days of my carrier." "Thank Faraam for the fact those mindless husks can't speak. I'd have died of shame."

Only one thing remained to be cleared.

"And why did you take so much time to come back ?" asked Amon to his brother, curious.

"Why ?" repeated the interrogatee.

More uneased than before, the knight of Carim searched his words.

"We waited here to... Well..."

A heavy sigh from Alrof put an end to this tragic tale and buried it in the mud of history:

"I didn't want to risk any of you people to look for us and find us naked, so we dried them the old fashioned way."

This was a ridiculous, but logical explanation.

Amon clapped his hand to bring order to the wall.

"That's that then. Would you kindly tell us of the other mysteries now ?"

"Hawkwood's testimony, and the memory mystery, specifically."

Aroth regained his composure, and his gaze of a born leader.

"Ser Hawkwood confirmed what miss Aveny told me of the knight of Catarina. Hawkwood was among the four ancient Unkindled, and didn't suffer our fate."

Now for the critical part.

"Tis with confidence I can claim that with more souls came a lesser vision of the past, something I could ne'er have envisioned if not for it." He took a small breath before finishing his retelling "I didn't attempt Kindle the First Flame. Or rather, I did so much later than I thought. I roamed the land after more than just one cycle of Light and Dark."

The news of the cure for memory-loss came to everyone like a blanket of snow falling delicately on an exhausted body. Soothing and refreshing. The details of Aroth's past weren't very clear for some, however.

"I don't get it... Isn't he Unkindled now ? And he said he reached the Flame..." whispered Carra to Alrof.

"Can't wrap my head around it either..." responded the man.

Amon however, didn't react much. He merely tilted his black-haired head to the side, attentively catching every word and gesture from his brother. Pavel artificail coughed before

"Erhem. Elaboration will be needed later. But the theory is approved then ?"

A nod from Alrof gave further confirmation. "I can vouch for that. I got some too." he said with crossed arms.

That was great news, and strange news. Kieran, most notably, moved away from his position and headed towards the stair with resolve in his eye. He had slaughter to remember. But his leaving was impered by a leathered hand on his arm.

"Get your hand off me, pretty noble. I like them but I don't need them on my mantle for now."

Ignoring the deadly comment, the Lawless Amon refused to give in.

"Wait a moment my good man. We will depart together like a civilised party. First, we should finish the hearing." he lilted.

His innocent smile was, thankfully, imitated by the stopped Unkindled, who returned among the others. They had remained silent during the altercation. Aroth, as always, put things back into motion.

"In the sanctity of the Shrine, once I had regained parts of my memories I asked brave Andre about what he knew. All he said was that I had joined Lothric, long ago. He remembered me telling him I had departed to swear fealty, and he hadn't heard of from me since."

Not much to go on.

"Maybe some survivors within the city will know of you ?" supposed Aveny.

"All in all, we can get going. Mister slaughter over there is getting hitchy.

The mad-eyed man approved:

"Then, how about you two stay and guard the camp while the rest of us go spend our hard-earned souls ?"

"Be my guest." said a weak looking Aroth.

Alrof took place on one of the available chairs and stretched his armor's joints. He shouted at the departing companions:

"Don't be long, I want to show you how I fare with a true weapon."

There was no response, only the strange sound of the bonfire's phenomenon that engulfed each of them.

They remained still for a short moment.

"Once again, I'm sorry for the embarrassment I put you through."

"Ah... It's alright. You're a good lad. You even got me this

A greataxe appeared on his shoulder, balanced by two hands with only a small amount of difficulty.

"I think I'll call it Infallible." explained the strongman as he returned it to his inventory.

The knight nodded. "A good name."

That was a good name. Very good. Less flashy than Dragonair, but it should hold true to its name. That's what Aroth wanted to add.

An awkward silence between the two men took its position. For a few seconds.

"You know, this is the longest I've been in a whole group on an adventure." admitted the red-haired devil. "Or at least I think so... Usually, the Lion Knights are dispatched in duos or by themselves."

"Really ?" said Aroth.

A thought occurred to him: "You haven't revealed what you had remembered once you met the Firekeeper."

Taking a different position on the chair, the new topic was addressed: "Bah. That wasn't a world-breaking revelation like yours. For you lot, at least. The thing is, I lost Dragonair way before my quest of Fire."

Not a critical detail, but a very personal matter. Aroth gave all of his attention to the coming tale, in respect to his new friend.

"Back in Forossa, my country, there had been war after war with every land we neighboored. Don't ask me why, I lived for the battle, not the gossip. Near the end, and the ensuing fall of the realm, the Lion Knights had to abandon our bastion because some foreign sorcerer had summoned an indestructible golem."

Alrof spoke in more length about the brave company of Lion Knights and their worship of the War God Faraam. The heroics he mentioned and the

"Now here's what I just remembered: I faced the weird creature, but it fell me with ease. Dragonair left my hands and my last vision was of it staying behind the construct. My comrades had dragged my bleeding corpse away from the keep, and I never saw it again. It's probably been in the hands of the sorcerer ever since. The funny thing is, before this moment I remembered every detail of that day, except for the fact that I lost my dear axe."

The listener lowered his glance.

"I'm sorry for your loss...' he said "Tis more than a memory loss methinks that afflicts us. Tis a loss of events. To be honest, I am having difficulties processing it all"

"Tell me about it." said the man. "What's done is done, what's gone is gone. I started using a bastard sword instead, called 'Little Sword', in order to train get used to not killing people in one hit. I thought it was funny."

The man realised something else, probably how the Handmaiden had greeted him earlier. He grumbled. So that was definitely that, another embarassment to had to the list, today. There was no way to know how the memory loss affected each of them. Alrof continued:

"Anywho, after that, me and the survivors went our separate ways. I caught the Undead curse and headed to Drangleic because some employers assured me there was a cure there. I even met my brother there at one point, but like I said, he died against a drake the day I found him."

That was a good story. The big man was no storyteller, but it was an interesting bit of personal information. Aroth was ready to go in more length about himself, when a important thought came to his mind, something that could lift the axeman's spirit:

"Upon hearing you, I realize that whoever altered us had no direct access to your axe. Tis quite possible it remained out of Their reach. I believe you see what I mean."

Processing the information for a few seconds, the axeman's face widened into the brightest mile he had ever produced.

"There's a good thought!" he exclaimed. "You're right, only a fool would let that treasure rot away. I bet some strong-armed warrior is wielding it right now! Too bad I'm not so sure about my armor... For now! Or not... I dunno."

Everything was so, uncertain. Struggling to word it out, Alrof gave up, and tried adding to this hypothesis

"Oh, and hopefully, the same goes for you and those who lost their weapons too."

"We can only hope..."

 _Having Andre's armor and weapons returned would be appreciated indeed._ thought the young knight

They had been discussing for a few moments more , before movements above attracted their attention. The eight companions had returned. Their faces were a mixture of confidence and confusion. Visions from the past and newfound strength had grabbed their souls and disturbed their thoughts.

Pavel's face for instance, showed a very rare smile. His newly acquired halberd was held firmly as it rested on his shoulder.

"You all look ready. Let's not waste anymore time and get moving. We'll speak about our epiphanies on the way"

Expertly, each of them took hold of their weapons as they headed to the western stairs.

"No stopping until we reach the building this time." suggested Gyron as he put on his robe's hood.

"Aye" was the collective answer.

With his longsword in hand and renewed comrades at his back, he extended his blade in a call to arm.

"Let our foes beware our might." he formally said.

An unnecessary display, of course.

"WAIT." screamed Carra.

Another delay, this was getting tiresome. But Carra had successfully called all the attention:

"What about my ember ?"

-o-

-o-

-o-

Authors note:

I would gladly welcome reviews to see if my stuff is good or if I should change how I share my tales. Pretty please. Feel free to destroy me, or adulate me, preferably the latter.

I'm waiting... ( ͡ ' ˍゝ ͡ ' )

I have the story mostly figured out until Judicator Argo, FYI.


	13. Long Walks and long Talks

Aroth Arklaw... For a short time, he was the embodiment of justice in Carim. Before that, he lead men to defend his adoptive land against a world that kept growing ever more dangerous. He is now a veteran of desperate battles, a conqueror of adversity. Many times had he confronted the mindless protectors of cursed realms. Long ago had he proved his mettle against the mighty Gods and Lords of yore. Today, he had fallen to the surprise attack of a less grandiose foe.

It came right after his summary of a mysterious Ember's purpose, when his new fellowship had advanced slightly along the High Wall of Lothric. A momentary confusion was all it took. As soon as Aroth had finished explaining its purpose, Carra, Bloomseer of the Great Swamp, recovered in a most violent way what she considered to be hers. Basically, she had gotten a bit stronger since the last time she kicked a knight in the balls.

The pathetic body of this peerless leader now laid on the ground, both of his hands grasping at the ruptured organs. The act brought no relief to the boundless pain he was feeling. Some witnesses were amused. Other decided to stay out of this and focus on clearing the surroundings, as well as their thoughts. But a few, like Alrof the bruiser and the Steadfast Pavel, directly condemned this action.

"Hurm... That was low, really low. You know that, right ?" accused a red-haired observer. "Yeah, that's where ah aimed. Low." responded the culprit joyfully. An answer that didn't please the brave warrior of Faraam. Some things had to be made clear. But first, Aroth managed to make one weak sound: "Heehellp...". That wasn't a good sign. "Oh dear..." whispered a compassionate cleric. Aveny joined the fallen knight with quick steps, she aimed to ease his suffering through efficient prayers. Carra let her pass and turned away from this display of kindness. Her eyes met those of Pavel who attempted to reason with her:

"Miss Carra, there was no need for violence. If you'd simply asked..." The offended aggressor retaliated : "Oh please, ah'm so sick of you...". "No, listen. You need to...". "What's this with ya always tellin' me what ta do ? The man was a thief. He didn' even apologize before takin' my thing. So stop actin' like ya give a dam." she approached the herald and pushed his steel breastplate with her bandaged hand. "That's the Circle for ya, roundin' us up with words first and cages next, like we're your cattle. Bloody White-bellied scum.". Her strong and vindictive voice overwhelmed the clergyman. "B-but I merely..." he stuttered.

The counter argument was stopped by a burning finger under the poor man's jaw, followed by a cruel "Shut it". Pavel complied. he pyromancer was pleased. "Learn from Sun-Lover over there, she knows to mind her own business." Concentrating on her Miracle, Aveny couldn't refute this claim.

The herald wanted to remind Carra how she appropriated the ember just because it was on fire. How her actions thus far had been unpleasant for the majority of the group. And how she should stop feeling offended by his very own existence. But any attempt to reason with the girl had proven pointless until now. He let out a discreet sigh and stepped away, forfeiting the verbal joust. But Alrof did not:

"Hey." called the strong man. Uncivilly, Carra walked away without so much as a glance. His next move however, got her attention. Alrof grabbed Carra's right wrist with his superior grip. No matter how much stronger the woman had become, there was no escaping this hand. Carra grew excited and made her free hand produce fire. But Alrof frowned greatly as he uttered his warning:

"You..." he repeated with more vexation. His dark red eyes piercing through the woman's proud facade. With a low voice similar to a bear, and great emphasis in his every word. This was not the busterly oaf she knew: "Do not, do that again." Was all he said.

The flame faded, as did Carra's motivation. "Sure, whatever." she deigned answer. But her glib didn't fully hide her nervousness.

Though the reply did not satisfy the axeman, he let her go without changing his expression. Alrof took a short look at his fallen friend, and decided to leave matters at that. He took the nearby stairs, joining the rest of the group in the area yet to be explored. Still, Carra understood that she should wait a bit before following along. She had to act like she hadn't lost control. The proud swamp-girl innocently whistled a simple tune as she walked away from the spectacle. She sat on the head of the dead drake and made the fiery ember spin in her open hand. Focused, she wondered how she would extract its force.

Around her the hollowed Undead had been destroyed, and the torch-bearers from the nearby tower had been silenced. There wasn't any danger around. Pavel still stood guard, just in case, and trying not to look in Carra's direction. Contrary to the servant of the Way of White, Kieran the professional killer was at ease. He squatted next to Aroth during the healing process, but helping wasn't what he had in mind. The assassin poked the poor captain's leather-bound shoulder, watching him grunt through his red mad eye.

"Oh captain, my captain... Whatever happened to you ?" snidely said this snake of a sadist. The reaction from the healer was immediate, yet peaceful: "Would you kindly not do this ? The damage is worse than you think." she said.

The man stopped. "Ouchie... Sorry then. It is just too funny. I'm part of the team, I just partake in its..." he made two soft taps on Aroth shoulder before finishing, "...activities. I remembered the feeling of his fist on my jaw, so you can consider this a _childish revenge_."

 _Bastard..._ tried to say Aroth, but only a long moan came out of his mouth. Aveny looked at the pale man straight into his eyes. Kieran sniggered proudly at first, but something in the cleric's gaze tickled his survival instinct. A sort of contained violence waiting for an excuse. As result, our Ruthless torturer lifted himself up and scampered off, heading towards people who'd appreciate his work. Carra was still waiting to enter the tower with the others.

"Sicko." she said with half a smile. Kieran's nose puffed from the remark. He shared his thought with her: "Oh, you're one to talk, ever heard the expression _violence is not the answer_? By the way, he didn't even feel it last time. Did you gain some muscles, umh ? A tasty feast of souls focused on raw strength?" The woman of the woods smiled and shrugged. "That's right. Ah don' have much pyromancies, an' no teacher lyin' around for some teachin'. So ah figured: _Ya know what ? Ah'm goin' physical_." pointing her thumb at her fallen enemy, she finished her sentence by: "No regrets so far."

Now that it was settled, she juggled the mysterious ember into her right hand. And the two entered the bowel of the tower where the rest had. A short stretch of stairs lead to an unlit floor where a battle had been fought. The place was a very large single room in a round shape, like the tower itself. Many crates and pieces of furniture were scattered around. Apart from the brave Unkindled, no life could be felt from anywhere.

Gyron the master sorcerer, Ardent Alrof and the Withdrawn Volke, had quickly eliminated three ambushing opponents after Aroth fell. One had a hole in place of a shoulder, another was stabbed in the back and neck, and the last one was cut in two amidst a large amount of torn crates. The new arrivals didn't pay attention to the mess. Kieran announced : "Our hero kept her prize, as you can imagine. Ufufufufu. I can feel how she burns with excitement." The woman playfully grunted. Master Gyron, judged her silently. Analysing the situation, extrapolating how she would react, he spoke in turn. "Yes, we have a willful test subject now. Go ahead young one. Activate the ember, if you think you deserved it."

"Don' rush me." she replied callously to the both of them. The sorcerer retreated whereas the assassin kept his wit: "So cold-hearted... Ironic for a pyromancer.". A nonchalant balancing back and forth told of the man's assurance, "As he said, go ahead." Her precious ember was hot at the touch, but not painful despite its appearance. From touching it, it felt both brittle and unbreakable, as if it regenerated its exterior shape continuously. "Here goes."

As Carra put force in her fingers, flames started sprouting from the object, without them producing any sort of heat. Those were cold flames that waited to be redirected. She continued forcing the artifact, until a small explosion made it crumble into ashes. And in that moment, the red flames engulfed the violent girl's body at once. She yelped in surprise. The inferno made quite a sound as it embraced her. The rest of the group was almost blinded by the sudden brightness, and all present felt the rising warmth. Aroth couldn't see the unfolding event as his helmeted face was still eating the dirt outside. But he could hear it happen.

 _Burn, treacherous witch._ he hoped, his mind still clouded by pain. Thankfully, what happened next wasn't a death sentence. "Oooh..." effused the burning seer in delight, visibly not inconvenienced. The flaming gal was smiling broadly. Her fuming limbs danced as the fire dissipated. The effect did not last overly much. The heat also quickly lessened, and the pyromancer stood tall as parts of her body and vestments now presented sparks, as if she had partly become an ember.

"Whoopee!" she beamed with glee. The broadest smile in the world had conquered her smug face and an unknown energy had replenished her fatigue. _Curses_... thought Aroth outside. "Feels good ?" wondered a darkly Volke. "It does! Ahah! It's like ah just came out of a mud spa, ah feel alive!" she replied. The happiness she demonstrated was unequaled. By comparaison, any smile, any passing moments of euphoria she may have showed before seemed like mere acting from a depressed soul. She wasn't even trying to resist the urge to jump around to expand her newfound excitement.

She calmed herself after a few more seconds, expiring and inspiring from exhaustion, but then her face showed perplexion. "Whoah, those are new, ah wondered why they didn' show up sooner." "What is it about now ?" wondered the Swift Osadin. "Messages, ya know, from them other worlds. There's a few around... Well, it's mostly some bad jokes." She stepped out to watch for more of the messages, paying no heed to her audience. One of them, on the narrow passage into the tower's top, caught her attention.

"A'ight, that one there. _Torch_ _ahead, be wary of trio._ Innit grand ?" she clamored to anyone in her voice range. A range that included all nine of the Ashen ones. Five of whom still remembered their first encounter with the three Torch-bearers of the second tower. Those enemies could awaken hordes of sleeping Hollows, making them surge and slaughter intruders. Two of them were easily spotted, but the third was watching from above alongside a grenadier. Needless to say the memory was unpleasant.

Kieran crossed his arm and addressed the resting Undead. "Well, that's good to know. I'll be sure to warn ourselves, hours ago..." Old Man Gyron, analytical as always, joined the conversation from his seated position: "Her connection to other worlds has strengthened. That is valuable. BUt there's something else to consider now." he shouted to the pyromancer out of his sight. "Young Carra! Have you recovered your memories ? Have your powers increased in any way ?"

Jumping down the stairs like an excited child she rushed in front of the man in mere seconds. In her excitement, she had forgotten to think about an answer. After a short silence, Carra scratched her left cheek and explained: "Nope." she replied. "Ah'm just in better shape. Ah'm a wee bit moved by me weird acting, but it feels like it's goin' off now." Alrof, who had kept silent thorugh the excitment, coldly put her in her place: "You had your fun, and your reward, little missy. Now wait for the others." Carra sat herself down. Making a small tune by clapping her hands. She was eager for more action. Outside, Aveny had finished her work.

Amon had remained still in front of his brother, despite all the commotion. Since the healing took longer than expected, he addressed the divine healer. "Are the damages that great ? How fares my brother ?". Coincidently, the process had been completed. Aveny stopped shining and got back on her feet. She placed her golden bell away and answered: "He's been fully healed, though I cannot remove shame or anger." Her voice, serious and collected, told of her experience in the healing arts. "There is no more internal bleeding, and the organ is healthy again, I'd recommend he drinks small sips of estus until the pain disappears, not a full chug."

Amon bowed slightly as a way of thanks. "I appreciate your efforts. He has walked through worse, trust me. You may leave him to me Milady.". Aveny bowed in return and departed into the tower. Amon, unamused by the ordeal, spoke to his old friend: "How do you fare ?" Aroth was now in a resting position. Sitting on the floor, one leg bent upwards while the other followed the ground. His right arm was resting on his knee which gave him a pensive look. And Aroth was pensive at this time. Pensively angry.

"This. Will not. Stand." he muttered clearly. "She is impulsive, destructive, obsessive, and the group will not last if she keeps having her way." Amon recalled about their shared past. His sibling had shown a great sense of justice throughout their education together. While journeying through the streets of the county's capital, he'd often leave into the alleys in order to save whatever was being bullied. Children harassing cats, bandits stealing from the elderly... Those types of curs would enrage the small warrior. Aroth'd often become hunted himself as a result. But as his strength grew, the miscreant took his place in the mud.

Now that he had been weakened, forced into another suicidal quest, and brought low by a mere witch, his faith in justice wavered even more. The noble Amon had to talk him back into shape. "You named yourself Arklaw, recipient of virtues and judge of souls. Act your part.". Aroth dismissed the remark with a wave. "You need not remind me, murderer.". The kinght drank a little bit of golden juice through his helm, and returned to his pout.

Still bent over the past was Aroth of Astora, but Amon of Carim needed this man's leadership. "Well, She did go overboard this time, a majority would agree. But the answer is simple, just let the company spread out. We are Unkindled Heirs of Fire, there is naught we can do but play our parts." he offered an open hand to get his adoptive sibling back on his feet. "Banish those who do not fall in line, and keep the devout to your side."

Leaving the open hand hanging over him, the knight angrily began a retort. "No. Tis imperative we..." he commenced ready to debunk the argument. But Aroth realised something here and there: Was separation the best answer ? After all, what was it that forced them to stay together, after all ? Friendship ? They weren't connected that deeply, for now... Now that they had a modicum of strength, each of the Ashen Ten could survive on their own, find clues separately, and recover their lost powers. If they had things to share, they might see each other at the Shrine periodically. The tensions between members would be reduced by an increased distance. That is why Aroth didn't completely dismiss the idea. Also, his groin was still hurting, so thinking wasn't an easy thing to do.

"I shall consider this." he conceded, before accepting the assistance. The deposed noble looked into Aroth's eyes, as if the helmet didn't exist. "That is all I ask, Brother.". Without more words, they headed towards the room side by uncomfortable side. Aveny's miracle had healed the wound and the pain would dissipate in time. But no amount of devotion would make the humiliation go away. Despite knowing this, Amon fell back on his cynicism.

"Oh, I believe I should mention something before your anger makes you deaf as well as blind. My vision, at the Shrine, was from the distant past. And it included you." "Is that so..." said Aroth while drinking another shot of Estus. Amon gently patted his countriman's back. "Remain by my side fearless leader, you'll learn more than you think." Meanwhile, two of the darkest Unkidled, the tattooed Volke, and the scarred Kieran, were observing the other side of the tower through the bars of a blockaded iron door. After

"Many enemies... But treasure corpses... Also stairs... Memorized ?". Kieran made an evil grin as he observed the possibilities. "Yes, that'd be a good grab. But those guardians aren't the lazy sort. We saw them during our training up there, they didn't mind our piercing eyes, or me taunting them." This last term term called out to someone else. "Taunting ? Whatever use is there to taunting Hollows ?" asked Osadin who was cleaning one of his blades. "Oh, nothing offensive. I simply say _"_ _Does anyone here wish to die again ? Then step forward."_ Works every time." "Hum, duly noted." concluded the Swift hero.

Volke lowered his hooded head. He moved his body further over the debris and took a long breath, almost a sigh really. The swordsman and the fencer saw the sorrow on his face, and were ready to hear what he had to say. Noting his comrades concerns, Volke obliged them: "Despair has left them empty... Husks... It's sad...They can't hear words..." A strange thing to say, but Kieran cheered the former Hollow up, in his own way. "They're way too far gone. They were weak, not you." stepping away from the blocked door, he added: "Since you take pity on them, be sure to end their miseries with those bombs you love so much. You were a..."

"Oy! Hurry an' get here ya Turban, Crazy Eye an' Gloomy Kid!" They were having such a nice conversation, and someone had to interrupt. Who else but a hurried pyromancer ? Our dexterous friend made his complaint: "Would you kindly not be so rude ? My helm isn't exactly a turban, and it isn't even my original wear.". The girl didn't care. "Whatever. Get back here." Elation had completely left Carra's voice and face. Her bad behavior had returned in full throttle. Kieran raised a black eyebrow from this disrespect. He had a sense of humor, but not infinite patience when pestered this way. "I like you, Swamp-lass, but you are not the leader of our fine fellowship. Remember that." She ignored the reply, rolled her eyes and paced around the hole.

Osadin joined the others while Volke remained at his spot. As for the contract-killer, he headed towards the young knight and his brother who had started discussing. "No hard feelings over my little jest I hope ?" he commenced. Aroth sighed: "I tell myself we have all kinds of personalities. But I trust sure you have regrets.". Extending his arm in thanks, the deadly jester gave gratitude. "Quite noble of you. I'm not really sorry after all. But truth be told, that Green Witch of ours, she's getting on everyone's nerve. Maybe we ought to find some way to "calm her" a bit. I'm... "available" if you catch my meaning." "We shall see." replied Aroth before taking another sip of Estus, the killer's sadism notwithstanding.

And so once they were ready, nine somewhat-decent fellows got closer to a big opening on the tower's floor. It was square shaped and presented a sturdy wooden ladder. There was a wooden scaffolding a few steps deeper, but the rest was too dark to see the lower floor. "How deep is it ? I'm not fond of throwing our torches down just to check." During their latest stop at Firelink Shrine, the Ashen Ten had bought three special pieces of wood from the Handmaiden. Those simple and cheap items were perpetually lit and linked in their Undead storages. Very useful when one wants to erode the obscurity, even after passing through a river.

"Allow me." offered Gyron. The Learned wizard retrieved his sorcerer staff from thin air, and raised it above his shoulder. A short incantation produced a blue arrow that launched itself into the depths. It was as though dark smoke had eaten the sorcery. Or at least it would look that way if the arrow hadn't reached the floor almost immediately. Barely as deep as four men. A tiny explosion echoed to accompany the discovery.

"Well." said Osadin as he twirled his moustache. "Shorter than I thought..." Alrof took a quick look into the renewed darkness. "I don't like this, I saw steel bars and lots of furniture perfect place for an ambush.". "That's what I said." commented Kieran who then called. "Young Hollow ? Why don't you join us and share your insight ?" The tenth Unkindled, the lone thief, slowly pulled himself away from the debris and joined the group. Once among them, he looked in their eyes with curiosity. "Why wait..? This is where I slept... No one ahead..." he said with a soulless voice.

The axeman paused, "Oh...". After moving his neck back and forth in puzzlement, he grabbed the ladder and started descending. "Let's go then..." Kieran raised an eyebrow before asking an obvious question. "You couldn't have told us earlier ?". "You didn't ask..." plainly replied the thief who followed Alrof immediately. Each in turn, three Unkindled; the fragile Gyron, the courteous Aveny and the muttering Aroth, descended using the ladder. The rest felt impatient, they decided to simply jump on the platform they could see halfway into the bottom. Amon, Kieran and Carra acted this way. When came their turn, Osadin patted Pavel's shoulder and declared:"Into the Abyss, my friend." right before jumping down acrobatically. The last one left in the room, Pavel, let out a shameful breath before grabbing the ladder and joining the group.

Now that all were at the bottom, the three torches allowed for a better understanding of their surroundings. Volke took the league since he had been here before. "Just wood and shadows... No danger..." he repeated for everyone present. "I see." said Pavel, with confidence in his voice and a minuscule shaking of his index finger. It didExtending his arm, Volke informed his group. "But enemies ahead... Be silent..." There was an exit close by, the light piercing the stillness of the room and putting the stone walls' imperfection in plain view. They put out their torches in order to observe without attracting too much attention. There was just enough space for four of them to take a good look around.

As expected, they were still within the High Wall of Lothric, but they felt closer to the city now. In front of the ten man and women was a long stretch of ground, like a hallway without walls. A stair reached out to the upper wall they observed earlier and new enemies had to be dealt wit. There were four Hollows in a somewhat ordained formation and presented spears and shield at the ready. They intended to impale the intruders or at least guard the walls as they had forsworn eons ago. Two crossbow-men on a wooden platform, midway into the stairs, were similarly eager to loose bolts on the approaching group.

Without needing a word, Kieran, Volke, Gyron and Carra stepped forward. Some tempered steel in backs, a magic arrow to the gut and a fireball to the face dissuaded each and every hostile. Souls were absorbed, items were found... A classical skirmish. The rest of the group freely advanced. And took a better look at their surroundings. They were situated on the lower side of the High wall. A large path connected the following tower to. They were advancing. The locked door from their earliest location could have lead them right overhead.

Now that they had cleared the way, they had enough time to notice the damage that had been done to the surroundings. Especially to the stones of the lower inner wall. They were excessive in numbers, and quite deep. "Interesting..." said Gyron. "Tis as if a great beast had clawed it's way past the Hollows. " commented Pavel fearfully.

"No beast did this." constested Aroth as he touched the damaged walls. "This, was produced by the powerful swings of a greatsword." Alrof approached as well, bending his back to get a better look. "Aye." he confirmed. "You see the pattern ? Someone stood in the middle, and simply waited for the mindless drones to take position, and wham, one step forward, wham, another step, wham, and repeat. A good part of the tip touched the walls but that didn't slow the blade at all. Whoever did this could lift a mountain, and had quite the equipment."

He was right. All noticed now how the slashes weren't randomly spread. They were equally spaced, each one etched one step before the next. Osadin addressed the young cleric. "Who did you say the Onion Knight's name was again ?". "Ser Siegward. That was his work. A true force of truth and goodness." fervently declared Aveny. She quickly praised the sun before reverting to her calm demeanor. Osadin examined the walls again. "Goodness and Truth must be powerful when decently wielded. Maybe your group should have followed him."

A good point. Why would such a servile knight depart without them ? Aveny inspired greatly. Then let out her high-pitched voice. "To be honest, er... I think Ser Kieran made him uneasy...". A red and bushy eyebrow was raised. "Uneasy ?" Amon gladly explained: "Oh yes... He broke his hand on a wall, made his red eye twitch, screamed the detailed torture he plans for our mysterious kidnappers. Very informative one might say. To be honest, I'd have excused myself as well."

Kieran made his opinion known. "I'll have you know, my anger is righteous. And vengeance, will be mine. Or ours, if you prefer. For the record, that Onion said he wanted us to train more. So let's keep up and kill things... Pr~etty, please...". The silence sounded like an approval. Osadin clapped his hand to call attention "Alright then, what now ? Up or down ?". "There's treasure above. So what do you think ?" answered the killer. The magic word had been said, the path was now clear. "A host of corpses wait for us overhead. Is everyone ready ?"

"Aye." said the group. And without further ado, they went up the stairs, kicking away some unmoving corpses in the way. Once up there, moving carcasses greeted them, as expected; three large Hollows, seven spear-wielders and two husks armed with swords and shield. It was a curious assemblage, but the odds were in the favour of the attacking party. The ten brave combatants were about to close in on their foes when...

"DRAKE!" shouted Osadin. A large shadow passed over their heads, a great noise pierced the air of the still walls, and the ground shook as winged death descended from the skies. It was a Drake. It caught its descent on the Tower directly in front of the Unkindled Ones. Its hide was thorny and ash-colored, with the scales forming a sort of mane around its neck. The powerful monster was the perfect copy of the fallen drake they had found on the neighbouring tower. This one, however, was well alive and perfectly capable to un-alive the whole party.

Fire was beginning to form in the creature's mouth. Heat departed all the legs. "Retreat!" yelled Aroth. The party fled as one, almost tumbling into each other as they ran down the stairs. And just as they escaped the beast's line of sight, a deathly breath was felt. The flames ate away the rocks and the wood. Passed through flesh and bone. But the Ashen Ten were untouched. Mostly. The top of Master Gyron's hood had caught fire. "Shit shit SHIT!" shrieked Gyron who really didn't want to feel a burning sensation again. He put the damaged vestment in his inventory while running as fast as his frail frame could.

The pained shrieks of burning Hollows above accompanied the escapees. But they managed to reach the darkened room unscatthed, mostly. All were accounted for, all took a seat in the torch-lit darkness. Alrof sighed so heavily it seemed his stick would extinguish itself. They had to recover their breaths, excitement had shaken them. "It's not coming." said Amon against the gateway, who had pointlessly raised his simple sword. Osadin let himself fall flat on the hard ground. "Good grief, can we reach at least ONE tower without getting jumped from all sides ? This is getting tiresome..."

Aveny cheered the agile fighter. "Rise, brave saber. We are Champions of the Sun. Even against the vilest of beasts, we will prevail. This drake isn't all that big after all, right ?". "Yes, I believe you." answered our resting fencer without pulling himself up. He waved in a general direction. "Tell me when you find a plan against that "not-that-big" flame-throwing behemoth. Anything will do." Gathering information was important first. Aroth was observing the beast from the safety of the stone gateway. Its movements were repetitive. Checking to the left, then underneath, then to the passage, and repeat. This didn't feel natural.

"It's been dressed... It follows the orders..." he whispered loudly, inadvertently. That was a quick assumption in the eyes of some companions. But they remembered how Aroth might have been a resident of Lothric. Pavel came closer to inquire as such: "Another impression from your past ? It may be wild nonetheless.". Aroth focused on the creature, but nothing came to mind. "Perhaps..." Kieran squeezed himself between them: "You're right, actually. Lothric Knights are known to have tamed their likes. It likely figures us as intruders, and repeats whatever patrol he was on."

Alrof took a short peek outside. Nothing of note had changed, apart from the charred stone. The fourth tower had become a nest for the flying lizard. "Well, knowing all this doesn't change the fact that we're stuck now. We'll never defeat something like that if it stays atop that tower." Gyron, the old and Learned sorcerer, placed himself in the middle of the group. His hood had been damaged, but not too extensively, a bonfire might save it. "Assassin, are you certain they have been tamed ?" he demanded. "Everyone knows that. They're part of Lothric's cavalry, one might say. The lackeys of the Princes don't even need to ride them to kill everything in sight, so they fly around in patrols. More than one thief has died while climbing the High-Wall. I heard there's only three of them left, and this one's the smallest. But don't take my words for it, I can't say exactly when I last visited." Osadin, still on the ground, said his piece. "So they mainly keep people outside the walls away from the walls. We reached a bad spot then.". "And from the castle. But that is roughly the idea." confirmed the knowledgeable killer.

Our sorcerer massaged his beard as he usually did. The picture was becoming clearer in his wise mind. "Then there is a way...". "Go on Master." proposed Aveny whose eyes were never out of hope. Gyron placed himself in view of the entire group and started his explanation "Drakes are foolish little minks. At least, when compared to their greater cousins." he explained "Simply put, whenever a higher authority gives them a directive, be it from a Dragon or an invincible knight, they'll follow it to the letter, until their live is threatened. But they can only remember so much. They are more instinctual than thoughtful. I believe I wrote a thesis about it. It was during my early days, me and a couple of students had become stuck at the library. Our Master Logan had gone on an adventure but had forgotten to return the keys. So we were forced to focus on our..."

Aroth clapped his metal hands together before Gyron became too far gone. "Master Gyron. This is undoubtedly interesting, and we may discuss of your story later, but let us concentrate on the troubles of the present.". "Oh, sorry... Anyways, we need decoys." Amon chuckled: "Decoys ? Haha... Is that all ?". Gyron was offended by this tone. "Yes, that's al we need. Not everything requires plunging a sword into soft bits. In order to check which path will be burned by his flames, we simply let it roar pointlessly, then pass while it regains its breath. He won't pursue us if we reach outside its ward." Carra, who hadn't been talkative until now, gave another of her negative input. "Sounds stupid. Ya sure it won't chase us here ?"

Alrof pointed behind him and towards the gate with his thumb. "Look at it... It came flying at us, but hasn't moved an inch since.". He was right. It was as if the drake only reacted once an invisible line was crossed. The situation felt similar to some of the veteran Undead. "I say we give it a try. Who here would volunteer to face a horrible death ?" asked Kieran who largely extended his arm as he went towards the other Chosen Undead.

Left alone, Aroth, Amon, and Pavel, who knew they weren't fast enough to play this part, conversed. "You know, I remember facing one such. Untamed, but easily avoided." began the knight of Carim. "The very same breed ? Those types of grey drakes are from a more modern age. Are you certain this isn't a memories of Lothric ?" Asked Amon. "No." was his brother's answer. "I merely recall a similar situation. From my journey to Lordran. A gigantic drake had taken refuge over the altar of a Sun Covenant.". This detail tickled the pale man's memory. "Ah, I see of which you speak." Aroth crossed his metal-bound arms. "I _was_ following your track, if you have to know." Pavel raised a hand in front of the two. "Pray tell, Ser Aroth, was it a _tail-less_ red drake ?" That was too specific to ignore. Aroth spoke truthfully: "Indeed. Were you ambushed on a bridge on your way to a Bell of Awakening ?" Exhilaration took hold of the middle-aged herald. "Verily! We did share a common route towards the Flame then." Amon choose to give more of his take on the story. "How drool. I was the one who cut its tail." "Is that so ?" said an intrigued Aroth who reached for another Estus sip. "And how did you accomplish this ?"

The revelations kept coming. The three ancient Undead brought more fire to their burning wish to discuss the advent of the Second Age of Fire. They were equally curious about what they had done in the ancient Undead Parish, and what they faced afterwards. They completely forgot about the others. Aveny did well to remind them. "Sorry to interrupt your recalling of the past. I'd love to hear stories from true veterans, but..." Kieran cut to the chase: "While you focused on your lost glories, we found our volunteers." Volke and Osadin were standing outside, side by side, waiting for a signal from the group. Osadin gave a small wave while the thief remained perfectly still. This was an association of the fastest Unkindled available. A smart move. Amon offered apologies for the delay.

"Excuse us, a string of coincidences that called for clarifications.". "Dumbasses." said a passing Carra. She took a new position to observe if she'd see live burning corpses today. A vein popped on th forehead of our white strategist, he tried not to let it alter his word. "Master Gyron ? If you could detail the procedure, please..." The scholar obliged him by shouting his plan to the two living-baits. "You two! Take step after step in order to determine the precise spots that acts as a violation! Retreat as soon as the drake's demeanor changes!" Osadin and Volke nodded. Both of them took position, Volke on the stairs, and the easterling below him. Each took a step in turn, without needing to exchange word.

Amon whispered in his two friends' ears. "Forget what I said about splitting up. Let us rid ourselves of this savage girl.". Kieran, keen eared, immediately stepped in "Should I ?". Aroth tilted his head in exasperation. "Do not associate me with your foul deeds. I will find a way..." The drake roared and launched his attack soon after. The decoys successfully retreated, and a safe zone could be established outside, where the flames hadn't reached yet.

The three ancient Unkindled continued their council. "I will not accept any of you to blatantly end her life. Should Carra perish or suffer, it has to be from her own faults. She needs to be brought low, not killed. Justice will be served, she will learn humility and restraint.". That seemed overly complicated. "And how do you hope to accomplish this ?" asked Amon. "I know not, neither do you. But maybe the others will have ideas." Another flaming breath on an empty area made them recoil, instinctively. Amon shuddered: "It reacts faster than expected. This is dangerous. Running for it directly will not do.". "Living baits have their perks, I should know." conquered the Ruthless man.

Gyron called out for a gathering. "I know his pattern now. Our best course is for our two brave lads to head upstairs, so that his breath doesn't reach the lower path at first." he turned towards the runners, "You shall join us once we find the line that renders him cross, on the other side.". "Easy enough, I'm eager to explore more anyways. So don't worry about us." Volke nodded and placed himself right before his earlier position. Meanwhile his eight comrades formed two columns directed towards the distant passge. "You see the small archway, after a flock of stairs ? That is our goal." said Amon.

The signal would be made by Gyron. He waited a few seconds so that the watcher's eyes moved a bit to their left. Perfect. yron turned towards the brave duo: "You two, now." The two of them went up the stairs, and the drake reacted as planned. Red hell went down on the High Wall. Those beneath them clenched their legs. Once the flamme had passed within inches of their faces, the time came to begin a sprint. "Now! Go, go, go!" insisted the sorcerer.

They ran fast, they ran hard. Before a second breath of fire was made, they had gone past the drake. No new movement was felt from the creature. Past the small archway was out of his jurisdiction, as noticed before. But Osadin And Volke were nowhere to be seen now. The drake continued his attack. BUt his attention wasn't directed towards t the escaped group. The duo might be the cause. "They must be alive then. Wonder why they rushed in ?" questionned Alrof. To which Aveny answered "They'll join soon enough, but we should clear the area before we rescue them."

Kieran bent his back in order to look down on the repetitive reptile despite its positions. He wasn't one to resist mocking the incompetent. "Look at it, literally wasting his breath. Master Gyron, you were right to..." A clanking noise, not that loud, made the man stop in the middle of his compliment. "Is that ?" The noise became clearer. This turned the assassin paler than he should be. "Shit... Hide..." he murmured with a widened red eye.

Hearing this, the group instantly placed themselves against the wall, below a short palissade to the next part of the keep. It was a tight fit for eight people, but they managed. Kieran had never stepped away from a fight before. He thought himself stronger than Gundyr some time ago, but never looked threatened in any way, until now. The cause would soon be clear to them.

An elegant, towering foe had stepped out of the fifth tower the group had reached. Visible by those closest to a small staircase. With slow, unwavering and powerful steps, this enemy was obviously not like the other. He was completely armored with strong steel, his helm completely covered his face, and a long red cloth surrounded his chest. There was a long cape of similar build that fell flat on his back. As for weapons, he was armed with a grandiose almond-shaped shield, and his right hand held an intricate sword. Though all of his set was worn out, it remained in high working order.

The shield, like the cape, presented a complex sigil colored with faded gold. That was the symbol of Lothric, which made him a Lothric Knight, and the possible master of the attacking wyvern. He advanced towards the tower its probable pet defended. Solemn, he tilted his head in search of possible intruders.

Said infiltrators stayed silent, flexing their legs against the low wall, hidden from the dreadful man's vision. They were moving as little as possible. But one of them dared take a quick peek, which didn't result in his detection. He wasn't frightened by this foe and made that clear. "It is alone. Should I take care of it ?" Amon, focused on the new target, had pulled a short blade to his side. This action made Kieran hiss a warning :"Hush! Put that away before he sees the reflection!". The Lawless warrior whispered with a hint of irritation: "Let me remind you, we have the numbers, and we have improved our might. We'll never advance if we don't take risks. This isn't a drake."

Speaking at the same decibels, the discouraged killer rebuked: "It's worse! That lizard above us, those knightly bastards literally eat them for breakfast! Just let him pass... We'll wait for an opening during his shift..." As a result from the quiet outburst, Amon paused himself. The matter was serious if the flippant Kieran wasn't giving it a go. It maybe for their best interest if the Ashen Ten played it quiet. But they had to leave sometime, and retreat wasn't an option with the drake covering their escape path.

Alrof stepped away from the cold stone. "I'm not running. I was waiting for a proper target to test Infallible. You coming with little knight ?" Right above, the drake produced another of his hot pillars over an empty area. This didn't scare the company in the least, now. And the Lothric Knight didn't react at all since he resumed his walk. "Hum, the drake is distracted. A good sign." observed Aroth. "And I would be honored to join such a brave warrior."

"What is an Infallible ?" wondered Aveny. To answer this question, the axeman simply showed his iron greataxe, as massive and potent as a rockslide. "That's her. You met her already." Impressed, Amon whistled as he stood up. "I will gladly participate then." A last volunteer pitched in :"And my magic will pierce his defenses." offered Gyron. Four warriors against one dead guardsman. An unfair fight one would think, but the difference in the strength of their souls would probably make up for this difference. Hopefully, not so much as to lead the Unkindled to their doom.

To the others, Alrof gave a simple counsel: "You should stay behind in case we all die like small bugs, like Red-Eye Kieran thinks." That was a decent thought. "Understood." nodded Pavel. "May the Sun shine on your blades." finished Aveny. Still crouching, the crestfallen killer whispered to thin air. "Ruthless, I am known as Ruthless." he placed his face against his palm and spoke to thin air "Bearded fool."

The four men had now left their hiding spot. They were in the great knight's field of view, and Aroth raised his iron shield. "Gird yourselves." he told his companions. Alrof placed his giant axe on his plated shoulder and took two steps to the left. Gyron stepped behind him with his staff firmly held. Finally, Amon circled around their foe while spinning his blade. All stood ready to draw black blood.

The Lothric Knight had turned towards the guests. After standing immobile for a mere moment, he darted off to meet Aroth, quicker than expected. His beautiful sword was launched forward to pierce the Arklaw's shoulder. The thrust was deviated by the shield but Aroth was unbalanced as a result. In this small laps of time, the Hollowed knight had overextended, and Alrof launched his greataxe downwards. His aim; splitting a skull.

But his target was more nimble than expected. The guardian of the Wall enacted a short jump backwards and let the greataxe scatter stones instead of steel. It was a loud attempt, but a first failure. Amon didn't let the adversary breath. The tip of his sword connected between the joints of the elbow. Though it didn't penetrate far, it was him who had drawn first blood. He tried to follow up with more strikes But the reflexes of his opponent were astonishing.

Then came an ethereal blue arrow. The target couldn't possibly avoid it this time. That maybe why he let his shield handle the sorcery. Unexpectedly, the escutcheon was intact afterwards, when normal iron wouldn't withstand this manner of damage. "Intriguing." thought the mage who already knew in great length how certain items may resisted sorcery. But now wasn't the time.

In the same movement that parried the spell, the swinging escutcheon headed for Amon's chest. The chained man easily avoided it. And this pause allowed Alrof to recover his momentum. He turned around and used the momentum to place Infallible back in position. He roared a mighty roar to bake his blood boil. "Oraaa! Keep up the assault!". Encouraged by this fervour, Aroth stepped in again and attacked diagonally while Amon took some distance to catch his breath. The armored foe wasn't all that fast and couldn't avoid the damage. Another splatter of somber liquid painted the High Wall's stone. But the fight wasn't quite done.

After having waited for the good opportunity, Alrof's turn came. He braced himself, then launched an horizontal attack without regard for his own safety. The Lothric Knight barely had time to counter it. He was forced to use both arms to defend against the incoming strike. Steel met steel and a great noise was produced, but the Knight was intact, merely dispositioned and its armor had been bent. After landing on his right knee, our powerful archenemy began another sprint, in the direction of the sorcerer this time. His sword raised indicated a vertical attack against Gyron. Too slow however, the old man managed to step on the side. And even better, our scholar managed to lodge a short blade directly into the Knight's right shoulder.

But this deed had let the mage too close to the wounded warrior. His large shield headed forward, determined to smash the elder's skull. That was not what a rushing swordsman had in mind. The thin blade of the former noble landed violently on the Knight's left hand. As a result, the heavy shield fell before reaching its target. This allowed Gyron to explode one of the protected legs point blank. The blue explosion made the sturdy foe shudder and curve his back in pain. This called for another opportune attack. A large sound propagated, large steel on deep bone.

 _Crunkch._

"Gotcha." declared the Ardent giant with a neutral tone. The result was disgusting. Almost the entirety of the knight's breastplate had been cleaved by Infallible, including the decaying organs underneath. A spasm took hold of the maimed patroller who stumbled against a nearby wall. He started slipping down, but his right hand still held a sword, and still he waved it against the four combatants.

The wounded enemy had bottomless stamina. Though its threat wasn't that high, the men wondered what drive could have pushed the being in its living days. "Well fought." said Aroth. It is unclear who he was talking to. The Unkindled knight grasped his longsword with two hands then enacted a powerful thrust with the thin blade. Touche. It perfectly penetrated one of six vertical openings of the Lothric Knight helmet. With half of a body seperated and a skull perforated, the red-caped warrior was fully defeated. The four heroes sighed in relief.

From the corpse, a dim light was emanated, Aroth hurriedly reached into it. Another ember. Looking at his companions who remained silent, he placed it in his mystical storage. The drake hadn't reacted to the battle, as if he never even noticed. It was a simple beast, like the Learned Gyron had said. Its master had perished long ago and never given him any new order. To the old sorcerer, Aroth gave praise; "Nicely struck Master, you are defter than anticipated.". "Oh... I had my share of squabbles." Red-cheeked from the effort and from the compliment, that was all the aged man had to say about it.

The rest of the group joined the interstice between the fourth tower, occupied by the drake, and the fifth tower, left to be explored. A dumbfounded murderer killer was at the head of the visitors. "Well, that shut me up." he admitted. Alrof placed his great-axe back within himself. "Don't feel bad about it. You know, that guy reminded me of the Iudex for some reason." A quick remembrance made the reference clear. Aveny remembered the words of the knight of Catarina. "Weaker than he should be you mean ? Ser Siegward said as much." Alrof nodded. Kieran shrugged and retrieved his demeaning persona. "Bah... Age dulls all things I suppose."

Carra took a quick look around, there was nothing else here to do. "Monsters are dead. Let's get goin'." The Zealous Aveny reminded her of important matters: "What about Volke and Osadin ? They may be alone in this tower, facing dangerous enemies. Open the fourth tower's door at the very least.". This simple idea didn't live long in the woman's mind. "They ain't babies. Leave'em." Amon couldn't allow that and made his thoughts clear: "Don't be absurd. Lady Aveny speaks wisely. We lose nothing by taking a closer look. Aroth ?" The called warrior nodded and stepped towards the closed entrance of the leftmost tower. The knight was about to reach for the iron bars of the door, when Osadin suddenly appeared behind them.

Surprised, Aroth emitted a short. "Oh...". The swordsman went to say: "Ah, hello there. " They both grabbed their ends of the steel door. "Is it your side ?" "I think it's yours. Give it a push." "Step back." The door was opened from the inside, later than expected. Osadin saluted his fellow Unkindled: "Good to see you again. An awkward reunion, but that's done with." noticing the greatly damaged cadaver in the middle of the group, Osadin made an obvious comment: "I see you've been busy while we were taking our time." Pavel stepped closer to the returned companion. "What took you so long to return ? And where is young Volke ?"

"Oh, we saw an opened door right below the beast, and took our chances there. Then, since the monster wasn't coming after us, we decided to make the most of our new situation. I don't know if you noticed, but there was a great amount of treasure directly under the drake's gaze. Volke was eager to pilfer them one at a time before joining you again." Speaking of which, the drake above breathed another of his attacks on the other part of the High Wall. Agrooed by Volke, most likely. "Come on in." said the taned survivor.

Nine immortals entered a decrepit spire. Unlike the others, this one was rectangular in shape. On their left, they noticed how the wood had caved in. A stone wall was connected to the separate part of the building. The lower floor also presented a ladder. On the other side was the entrance directly beneath a drake's neck. And in front of it, a small figure was moving strangely. Rubbing off the flame that kept sprouting out of his head, Volke shook his body like a mouse cleaning itself. When he was done, he was met with the gazes of nine companions.

"Hello..." Aroth showed his hand in salutation. "Good work, once again. Are you done with your search ?". "Yes..." Carra jumped over the destroyed flooring and joined the treasure hunter. "So ya do got some goods. Show'em, now." Volke was skeptical, he had searched under great danger for his bounty. Should he really show it ? The young woman was looking overly angry. "No steal... will you ?" asked the rich Undead. "Who do ya take me for ? Some greedy old bat ?" chided the tense Carra. "Why would he think that, hmm ?" countered Alrof who had joined in. "Whatever ah'll just look, promise."

Volke went down the stairs so the assembly could look at what was found. He slowly placed it all on a nearby table. And it was a good haul. One greatsword of the family of claymores, five titanites, two souls, and another of the strange rough titanite. Similar to the ones they had found earlier on their quest. "May I acquire this weapon, Master Volke ? It isn't suited to your skills, and my little piece of steel isn't quite satisfying.". Volke talked without changing expression. "Asked nice... Take...". The noble took it, and swore to make good use of it.

But now that they were indoors, with their torches showing the surroundings, something among the aged furniture stood out. A chest. The one and perfect example of a container of riches. And, for reasons unknown, it didn't seem to have been opened. "Hey, why didn't ya mention this bad boy ?" wondered Carra who brightened at this sight. "Ah can smell there's lots inside."

"Not obvious ?" questioned Volked who didn't understand why she approached the obvious trap. Aroth and his companions took a trained look over the round shaped holder. A small spark from the torch, and the placement of a chain to the side made them uneasy. "Hum, miss Carra, you know it's a..." tried to caution Osadin, but a pale hand over his mouth stopped him. "You know it's improper to lay hands on anything you see ? Leave some for us." said Amon innocently. "Uh ? You want it ?" Aroth, catching on the situation, couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. "You have been very uncivilised lately, miss Carra, why not show politeness and let us near that chest first ?". "Now who's bein' greedy ? Ah think I'll keep whatever's there.".

Aveny and Gyron, who also understood what was happening, looked at each other and shrugged. Osadin opened his eyes wide in anticipation, Kieran and Alrof crossed their arms nonchalantly, Aroth simply sighed. All this came unnoticed as the young woman headed to acquire a probable trinket. She place her hands on the bottom of the interstice.

Then, at the very moment Carra tried to raise it open, the object unlatched itself suddenly. The content was revealed to be a giant tongue, and razor sharp tooth, crooked beyond natural. At the same time, two scrawny arms sprout from the sides of the false object, and grabbed the curious thief by the sides. It happened two fast to properly register. The giant mouth closed on its prey. "Ah..." neutrally commented the half-eaten girl. Then the sharp teeth made contact. First on her neck, splitting her spine and disconnecting her nerves. Aroth almost wanted to come save her, but a residu of pain told him otherwise. Pavel certainly aimed to, but was smart enough to realise it was far too late. This was a result they could not change anymore. And the die had been cast.

"Bad girl gets her punishment." said an appreciative sadist. Thankfully, Carra was too dead to hear that. The consumption wasn't done yet. The time came came the chest and its heart, Carra bled profusely, and the mimic seemed delighted by the soft tissue. Finally, the hips were crushed into pulp, before the bony hands let go of their prize. The lower half came free and turned into ashes. THe demonic chest returned to his hidden state, ignoring the spectators.

The nine observers weren't really worried about having helped in the girl's demise. The Unkindled gal, given her state of mind and lively state before death, would definitely return, in time. This spectacle had been both disgusting and comical. Kieran certainly enjoyed. For the rest of the Unkindled, the feelings were majoritarily those of of disappointment. "That was a waste of breath, hope she learns her lesson." said Amon. Gyron, seated a a table, gave his wise thoughts on the matter: "While I disapprove of your method, I know you aim to protect this group. And since her death came from her refusal to hear you out, she has no right to complain or claim vengeance.". "But she will." answered Osadin. "But she will..." confirmed the sage.

Aveny made a short prayer for the deceased companion, though she knew she'd be fine. "For now, we need to kill this hidden fiend. What was it Master ?". This called for another lecture: "A mimic. Member of a clan cursed for their greed by powerful Gods. They can't see, they can't hear, but they can taste the air like a snake and are stronger than one can realise. Trigger them with a touch, and they'll stand up and show unarmed martial prowess that can bend steel." One particular Undead seemed eager to kill the monstrous item. "I'd like to have a go, alone, please." said Kieran. That was a surprise. "It's been long since I had a true challenge, I want to keep my edge sharp, and there's no Lothric Knight around, fufufufu..." continued the Ruthless wretch. On second thought, it wasn't a surprise, actually. Gyron stroke his knee and pulled himself up. "Fine then. We will reach to higher ground. Me and Volke will try to scare away the drake in the meantime." Volke took out a small bow and nodded. "Bombs ready too..."

Kieran was now alone in front of the innocent furniture. Immediatelly, he trew something at it. A pebble ? Whatever it was, it produced a white fume. And then, something unusual happened. The mimic reacted, it spread its chest-mouth opened , and started snoring loudly. This was a sight to behold. "What did he do ?" asked a stricken Gyron. "I never read anything about this!".

Pavel knew the answer: "That was an undead Hunter Charm. Used by my order when chasing after heretical Undead. I never realised they could be used this way." Reflecting on whom he had replied, the herald asked: "Are you not challenging the drake ?" Turning away, the old man told the herald: "Yes yes, right away." and to himself, he said: " _I definitelly have to record this_." Sword in hand, the chest-slayer made multiple stabs against the brown tongue, as rough as bark. He had planned this well. "Fuhuhuhu... Eat this you lickety bastard." jested Kieran with delight. Each thrust from his estoc pouring more blood on him and rendering him more maddening.

But the mimic would not die. After the tenth stab, it grew tired of being sleepy. Slowly but surely, the mimic grew taller and taller. Letting her hidden limbs appear nto the light. The skeletal body it presented was taller than two grown men, and it seemed ready for some action. "Umh... Help ?" said the little mosquito. The mimic enacted multiple kicks in Kieran's direction, barely dodged. Aroth raised an eyebrow, this wasn't good. Maybe he ought to help. "Want to have a bet ?" proposed Osadin to the Ardent bruiser. "Uh ? What about ?". "I say our good friend ends up in ashes.". "Ohoh ? We'll see, I bet a little soul.". "Deal."

Meanwhile, the Arklaw took a bomb in his hand, and waited for an opportunity. Pavel stood ready to jump in, halbert in hand. AndAveny wondered if, once again, she'd have to heal a reckless fighter. The mimic had managed to corner its prey. It licked its numerous tooth and giggled. "Brace yourself!" shouted Aroth as he threw an explosive. Problem was, Aroth was never a good thrower. His attack missed by a few centimeters, and reached both the mimic's leg. Due to this, it made a sudden move and its arm whipped Kieran to the ground. "Ung!" said the injured man. With his back on the ground among broken wood, Kieran saw the smiling monster bend itself over him. Its leg wasn't functional, but it was ready to eat, eager to recover its strength.

Kieran, in desperation, ran his blade through the soft corpse. This saved him from a gruesome end. Exhausted by a bleeding tongue and pierced at its heart, the cursed and unfeeling being fell, and it fell right on the unlucky killer. Kieran, flattened, wasn't moving anymore. Aroth and Pavel, with true concern, jumped down, and went to help the fallen fencer. Aroth arrived first. "Assassin ? Forgive me... Do you still draw breath ?" he asked plainly. "Enough to curse you with... Where did you learn to throw..." was the answer.

 _Fair enough._ thought the chevalier before extending his hand as plainly as he could. His movement had the effect of reminding him of his brother's offer, a short time ago. He offered his help regardless: "Then rise. Let me help you." The assassin passively accepted the offer. Aroth moved the wooden parts away. Once freed, the assassin demonstrated his agility. From his prone position, Kieran drew both legs to his chest and his arms to his head. In one fast movement, he flexed his knee and hip in order to launch himself. He landed perfectly on his feet. Done with the acrobatics, he wiped away the dust that had gathered on his leathery set.

Since Kieran was still alive, Alrof sighed secretly. He produced the soul of a lost soldier in his left hand, and reluctantly gave it to Osadin. With satisfaction, the experienced swordsman absorbed it immediately. But that interaction had not gone unnoticed. "You gambled on his life ?" voiced an outraged sun-lover. The two gamblers looked upon the cleric at the same time. Aveny wasn't happy. Both of her hands were on her hips, like a mother prepared to scold an petulous child. "Well... I didn't exactly...". "We did? My apologies Lady Aveny. I swear...". "Let me join next time." That was unexpected, Osadin placed his red cloth over his face in bewilderment. "Oh, alright then..."

While the others were doing their things, the Arklaw of Carim knew he couldn't let matters be with Kieran, and even less with the deceased pyromancer. He had to bring the majority to his side. Aroth decided to use the witticism of Kieran to please him. With ample gestures and a soft voice, he offered his excuses:

"I apologize for putting you through this. You dealt with the cursed clan in past ?". "Here, it's enchanted with Dark, but I can't use it.". alrof considered the treasure, but "Here, I have all I need.". Kieran drank golden froth and stretched his back. "And to answer your question, yes, I did. It's the first time my provoking them proved so... Dangerous. I need more strength."

"Well, take it as a lesson. One should not to poke a drake's nest, or a companion, or a chest for that matter." The grim face was crumbling. Aroth, seeing that petty humor was working, pressed his assault. "But the worst comes when you unpoke someone. Doesn't it ?" Reminiscing about daggers pulled from living bodies, Kieran raised an eyebrow. As if Aroth's words had reached the assassin's funny bone. "Fuhuhu, there's a thought. A knife in the gut is basically a gift. Why are they feeling so bad about me taking it back ?". A grave voice toned in delight: "Ah! That's so silly!" Alrof was already chuckling, that could sway the odds in Aroth's favor, thus, he pushed it further: "They always get mad at you, those ingrates. Even though you literally removed a weight on their chest."

Upon seeing this, Kieran succumbed to the silliness of the situation. The wordplay were adapted to his taste, and Aroth's charisma was winning him over. But most of all, the axeman had been ridiculously easy to entertain. "BAHAHA!" Alrof had begun a powerful guffaw. His jaw opened in great angles and his back bent back and forth frenetically. No mere man could withstand such sight without grinning. And despite being Ruthless, Kieran wasn't without a sense of humor. "Fu..." was his first sound. Mere seconds later, the perverted killer finally erupted. "FUHAHAHAHAHA! You can't be serious!" Aroth was slightly swayed also by his own humor and the two men's display of laughter. He joined them gladly: "Kahaha! I tried my best!" The scene lasted long enough for Aveny and the other observants to await them back between the last tower and the drake's perch.

Kieran removed a tear with his leather gauntlet. "Ser Aroth, I'll admit it, you have a way to appease my black heart. Let me promise you, the next time I find an interesting corpse, I'll speak to it first.". "And when the time comes, I shall place my shield to your side.". "And I'll smash it to pieces! Just in case." gushed a bold bruiser. Again, Aroth joked around. "Now now, enough. A little more and I'll assume you have feelings for me." "Fuaha! Don't you joke about this now!" getting his breath back, Kieran seemed quite happy with this resolution. "Oh, I missed having a company... Wait, I had a company ?" This memory situation was becoming more and more familiar. Aroth worryingly commented: "You'll need souls to see the picture more clearly, friend. "Probably. Let's shake on it, then." On it, three hands were shook. Things were brightening up among this Fellowship of Ashes.

Wiping away a joyous tear in his eye, Ardent Alrof proposed a departure: "Lets get out of here. Too many things can burn down here.". A wise decision, they moved on. Nine Unkindled had left of the tower on the side the drake didn't survey. The drake had truly disappeared, and Gyron explained how it felt threatened by its own suicidal orders. It would not be back. There, while more discussion was taking place in the wait for Carra's return, Amon went to his old acquaintance. "I am impressed Brother. You handled this very well. You have made clear allies among this small squadron. Everyone would approve of your qualities as a leader."

"Is that so... I was lucky enough to make them laugh. That is all...". "Don't sell yourself short." "I have no interest in gaining your respect." Amon frowned. He removed the chain helm he had been continually wearing. The long black hair had not been damaged in the leas,t and flew from the strong wind that bathed the High Wall. With his fingers joined, the Lawless noble adressed his hateful brethren. "I know, I know how you still loathe me. But let me assure you, once again, that I have no ill-will towards you or anyone. Any revenge plot, any malicious plot I could have, all have been accomplished long ago. Today, there is only our mission, The Mission.". he look on his brother's face startled Aroth. There was such conviction behind those light-gray eyes. Amon's visage was both strong and solemn as he gave his final words. "I merely desire to save this world, no matter the cost." A clapping of his hands chain-bound put the matter at rest. Amon changed his tone to fit the new situation. "At any rate, noble Undead, I assume you have a plan to deal with a certain gal ?"

Back to business it was... Not feeling any pain, but desiring to moisten his throat, Aroth drank a bit of the blue Estus Flask. It had the additionnal effect of awakening his tired senses. He would need them. The bitter taste pleased his dulled Undead taste. "Bribes." was his answer. "Ohooo ? A pertinent idea." They both got up. Amon took place near a wall. "You have my support should you need it." A simple nod was all the thanks Aroth cared to give. But in his mind, he was being conquered by his noble relative. How could a man so intelligent, so well-spoken, ever commit atrocities against Gods and Men ? He would have to ponder on it later. For a familiar face had appeared in the distance.

"There she is..." said Osadin. "Have you said your prayers captain ?" joked the friendly assassin. Unafraid, Aroth answered. "I am no captain. If anything you may address me as... "your Lordship"... Though my name is a preferable option.". "Sure thing, _your Lordship_." Pleasantries aside, the pyromancer was here. Her legs were covered in black blood, her green hair was unkempt, and she wasn't emitting shards of light anymore. At least the group had learned how death turned embered Unkindled back to a normal state. Good to know. Carra on the other hand, wasn't feeling so appreciative. She had cut her way through reborn Hollows to get back here, and would probably not present an opened mind. Aroth equipped his shield only, aiming to bargain with her despite her possible frenzy. Only a small flight of stairs and a small stone barrier separated them now. Aveny was the last to get away from Aroth, after a final check-up.

"Wish me luck." he said as low as possible. "May the Sun shine your way." said Aveny who placed herself against the wall alongside the others. Alrof struck his own fists in a most eager fashion. "Got your back little knight." A bit late, but good to know. Hopefully, matters wouldn't come to an extreme beating of either party. _Beating_ was the very word that the dusty, now unembered Carra, had in mind. Her head was shaking like a leaf in a storm, as if ready to snap her own neck. She bared a living flame in her left hand and her simple axe in the other. The assembly had a bad feeling about this.

The first statement was given by the furious demon-slayer: "Say yer prayers soldier boy!" The retort from the defendant was ready: "Twas your own greed that cost you life. And it is time you faced the consequences of..." The defense was suspended as a fireball jumped out of the enraged woman. Aroth deftly avoided it. And Carra then rushed in as predicted. She aimed for the head with her axe. Aroth paid attention to every detail in order to know how best to counter the strike. With two hands backing his steel, he pushed away the thick axe-blade.

The weapon had been perfectly parried although Aroth's left arm still sensed the blow's pressure. The pyromancer's strength of arm had soared through the absorption of souls, that was clear. But her simple axe was not a fine piece of weaponry. One handed, with a small reach, and a short blade it was primitive in its look and not that effective all things considered. That was another piece of the deal the Arklaw was concocting. Carra was still unbalanced, it was time to continue the persuasion:

"Bloomseer Carra, you will listen to me." to which a the graceful Carra answered: "Shut it an' let me kill ya!" A diagonal slash was deftly blocked. Followed by a fiery explosion at close range, but Aroth had seen it coming. He made two determined steps, and found himself right behind his opponent's back. Carra turned around, but Aroth made another quick movement and still. Had he used his sword, the fight would have been over long ago. But he had to stay true to his word and reason with the girl, however annoying that was... "I repeat, I have no desire to...". "Bah!" interrupted Carra with a headbutt from the back of her skull aimed to flatten the knight from her blind spot.

This hadn't taken the veteran by surprise. Such a simple scuffle from a lashing woman was a trifle for the former commanding officer. Aroth had braced himself and placed his fully covered head in the path that would make the most use of his steel helm. And most particularly, its pointy shape. Not only had he dampened the blow, it also hurt her more than him. Carra yelped and scrubbed her injury while walking erratically, pestering all the while. The arguing continued.

"Miss Carra, once again, you do not heed my words, and you let yourself be hurt." The pain made the woman exaggerate her view on the matter. "That's yer fault ya bastard! You and your pack of crazy mutts!" This was too much. First the death threat, now the language against uninvolved people ? The one in the right was now obvious to all. "You serious ? Listen to the man and listen to you! You're being excessive!" said Alrof. An accusative finger was pointed. "Yer on his side ? Ya protect that thievin' manipulative freakin' killer ?"

That description felt appropriate for only one among the fellowship. Kieran's comment made that obvious: "If you're looking for an actual killer, I'm right here you know." then directing his head towards Amon, "As well as the handsome man to my right.". That wasn't the answer she expected, of course. "Shut it!" she shrieked. She was repeating herself and pouring her rage on everyone, not helping her case. Aroth pursued his rebuttal: "I am not your enemy, daughter of the Great Swamp. None of us are. Especially not Ser Pavel who cares for you as he cares for all of us." Carra had stopped moving in a fury, but she refused to give in. She pointed her weapon and paced in front of the gathered adventurers.

"Yeah, think ah'm happy sharin' the road with alla ya ? Especially one of those sadists ? Ah need no one. Ah can make my way to the Fire and burn everything I see soon enough." _That's what Amon meant..._ Thought the struggling knight, though the situation didn't seem adapted."But ah'll be damned if ah let some bloody knight and some kid-slayer tell me how to live my life!" Those were hard terms, and the anger felt righteous this time. Aveny stepped forward. The power of persuasion that comes from being of the same sex shouldn't be ignored.

"Kid-Slayer you say ? Carra..." said the afflicted cleric. "Tell us about your journey. What happened that made you so, unhinged ?" Osadin pointed his finger at the pyromancer. "Let me remind you how you never mentioned your past, at all, and yet you're acting like we're the one at fault for not knowing anything." True enough. Now was the time for her story to be be shared. Carra placed herself against a well, her weapon still in hand and her fire still lit. She recounted the past as if she was still living it now.

"Ah'm from da Great Swamp, obviously... Basically, it was attacked, twice. First, there was da Undead Hunters, wearing that cursed white circle. They wanted to round up all'a da Undead into cages and ship them elsewhere. By Undead, those bastards meant every single people from da Swamp. Even the children, OUR BLOODY CHILDREN! I was here da whole time, an' I saw people of da Way of White on their back kill the old masters 'cause they didn' want to, ya know, let them monsters get away with that. I grew up and became stronger. And surprise! Ah became Undead too! Then, one day, right before ah left, a horde of demons attacked da swamp, right when we had nobody ta protect it. Half of da Swamp was burnt... HALF! I swore revenge on demons, and to da bastard churchmen who stole our future and killed our guardians. Ya happy now ?"

To Pavel, she said.

"Ah don't care if yer armor ain't exactly da same, your order is made of coward an' killers, as are all knights basically. So don't act all innocent an' helpful." Pavel fell on his knees and spoke softly. "How could I know of your plight ? Please, I don't want you to hate me the past sins of my order. After all, I was probably ashes while this Undead Hunt took place. I was but the guardian of a small abbey. I left to Link the Fire, following my Undead Mission. Believe me, please ?" Sincere eyes begged for understanding. Aveny spoke further. "You know, in your heart, that Pavel is not to blame for your tragedy. He is pure of thoughts and never refused to assist you." she extended her arms over the praying Pavel. "Look at him. He is from another age, and has suffered to save the world, just like you. He is too old for finding pleasure in killings." "Too old ?" muttered Pavel, bothered. That was... Uncalled for, yet true.

Gyron gave more words to those claims. "Your anger is misled at best, counter-productive at worst. At any rate, we share the same quest and the same fate. Let us help you youngling." Left and right, peaceful Undead were offering their shoulders and ears. Slightly moved, but no one for crying after a great misunderstanding, Carra reacted as thus. "Bollocks..." Angered, but this time by her own self, she declared the words everyone was waiting for. "Bollocks! Ah'm sorry a'right ? This doesn't mean I'm stayin' or anything, but..." she made a long and intense sigh, "Ah'll try not ta be a bitch fer no good reason, s'that alright with ya ?" All shook their heads up and down, the verdict was positive. Though she did have a final rant:

"An' ah warn ya, Pavel, if I ever find out you been lyin' ta me, ah'll crush THEN cook your balls fer supper!". "I hope this day never comes." pleaded the frightened servant. "Okay then..." and another sigh for good measure. Her breaths of surrender would remain engraved in their memories for ages to come. The fit was over. The green-haired lass put away her axe into her inner space. But the grimace she had adopted would not disappear so easily. Amon, Lawless and free-minded, had an idea. He removed the armor that encombred his chest, and let his snow-white skin breath anew. The muscles he had trained over the ages seemed alive as he stretched his neck and shoulders.

"Oh my..." It had been long since they last saw this big hunk of masculinity. "Ya serious ?" "I am merely clearing your head with a nice view. Should I change back ?". "Nah... All's good, the mail made ya look fat anyways." "I am pleased by your honesty. Have you fully calmed down ? Should we discuss your possible departure ?" Amon grew closer, but Carra didn't move a muscle except the one moving her left eyebrow's. "Don't think ah'm that easy." "Of course."

Amon crossed his arm and smiled. He simply let Carra ponder her situation. Soon enough, Carra had recalled what options were available. "Knighty... er... Ah mean, Aroth ? I figure ya have some consolation for lettin' me die an' all ?" Good to see she hadn't forgotten the essential. Aroth, as he had planned, smoothly showed what he had prepared. "Another ember, and the weapon the mimic kept." Carra raised her right eyebrow. "Da hell's a mimic ?" "The chest that bit your head off." explained Kieran. A consolation from dying, was it ? She bit her lips as she considered the benefits. It didn't take long.

"Deal." she said. "Marvellous. I willfully hand over..." Aroth handed the first item, the axe, "...the enchanted weapon..." "Infused with dark energies." corrected Amon. "Yes... And, what I certain you are looking forw..." "Yeah yeah, give me da things." Rudeness would not do. "If that is how you wish to behave, then..." Aroth began pressing the ember and sparks started coalescing at the pressure points. "A'right! I'm sorry!" Though this was pushing her buttons a tad, it felt good for the knight to see Carra act like a child. A child that had learned a valuable lesson. "Good." was his answer, and he gave the item to the eager youth.

Carra hurriedly consumed the precious shard of fire. An reduced explosion and a smile accompanied her renewed state. The nine Ashen Ten prepared to depart. "Isn't someone missing ?" "She's right, where is..."

"Over ?" said a darkly voice behind the group. They turned around, the thin-bodied thief was standing in the entrance to the fifth tower, his torso and his chin were covered in black blood. "Volke ? Yes, it's over." Osadin shook his head up and down to look over the young man's body. "Did you leave at some point ?" Volke explained: "Don't like disputes... Went to clear the path... Found bonfire..." The last word provoqued approbations and cheers. Amon couldn't help but chuckle: "A bonfire ? Already ?". "I have not a single complaint." said Osadin who entered the building immediately.

It was quite a load of great news. The thief had been dependable from his first entry into the group. Heavily wounding Gundyr, exploring dangerous grounds, gathering items and souls from the strangest places. None among the Ashen Ten could bring themselves to hate the former Hollow. Alrof placed his big hand on the teenager's shoulder. "My boy! If we survive, I'll marry you to my sister!" "A wedding ? I can ?" responded the possible groom. Volke seemed to actually consider the proposal. Odd, but a refreshing change of subject from burning forests and murder thoughts and naked men. Aveny joined in: "Well, technically I have the authority to issue a marriage.". "Really ?" insisted the intrigued youth. "Since I was dubbed an official servant of the Gods, all we would need is your sister and the Gods as witnesses." "That right ? Well, I don't even know where she is, or if she's alive. Now that I think about it, there was a time where..."

Once again the discussion was running out of control. Osadin brought them back to the present. "Forgive me ? Bonfire ahead ? Let's take some rest ? Marry later ?" They let the matter stand and proceeded. Some walked faster than the others, but all entered the latest part of the High Wall. Like the others, it wasn't well lit, but very spacious. The wood flooring was falling in pieces barely a few paces in. Some hooded Hollow laid dead here and there, Volke sure knew how to handle his knife. Speaking of him, he stood on the far right, in front of another opening to the outside. This time, a stair leading up the tower led them to a failiar ground, similar in many ways to the other tower tops. And in the middle of the yard, was an unlit bonfire. "You haven't activated it yet ?" questioned Aroth. "I did..." said a perplexed infiltrator. Scratching his blackened cheek, he repeated "I did..." "No matter, I'll just... Strange, I can't interact with it..." said Amon with his hand extended towards the red sword.

Aroth sighed, the fun never ends when you are a Champion of Fire. Alrof gave a rousing speech in his stead. "You know the drill, there's a threat nearby interfering with the fumes." They looked around, but there was nothing. The drake on the other tower had left its pointless watch, and since Volke had lit the bones of the pyre, it hadn't been the cause of the disruption. Gyron told as such: "It could be something else. Maybe..." All at one, each of the Ashen Ten felt a chill run down their spine and into their skull. None spoke a word. But they all understood what was happening." "Have you felt ? This tension..." asked Aveny. "We all felt that." casually replied Osadin. The latter prepared his twin swords and turned his wrists in a beautiful notion. Amon took out his new claymore. All in turn prepared for a new danger.

An unnaturral sound came from deep below. "A trespasser from another world." confirmed Amon. "Or another time..." clarified the experienced spellcaster. Kieran suggesting something more: "I don't suppose they have been weakened like we were. And they're coming straight for us." There was a ruckus downstairs. Something was destroying the crates compiled therein. The Unkindled Warriors took position in a half circle before the access stairs, while the ranged fighter placed themselves behind. The threat came closer, closer... And then, the trespasser came before them. A man unlike anything they had ever seen:

The man wasn't glowing in a red hue, like he should be. Helooked real and not ethereal like the typical invader. But was that really even an invader ? "By the gods..." blurted Pavel in a murmur. The new arrival was a naked humanoid. It was male, apparently. And "almost" naked. Almost, if one considered a skin-tight red skirt, clearly designed for the other gender, as an actual piece of clothing. To add to the madness, the man was extremely thin, like mere skin over twisted bones. The skin itself was as blue as a cloudless sky. Finally, his face was the stuff of anguish; as if a potter had made the most bloated bowl he could conceive and smashed it against a wall.

As for weapons, in his right hand was a strange wriggling red haze exuding a sort of darkness. In his right was a tear-shaped wooden shield with green etchings. The enemy was definitely not terrifying, but this unusual appearance startled the majority of the assembly. Alrof could barely contain himself and fell hard to the ground, literally convulsing. He was dying of laughter. "ITS TOO MUCH! BAHAHAHAHAHA. HAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHA!"

The others were more restrained, and they could see the new arrival was just as confused as them. The blue dazzler was taking small steps backwards and didn't know which of the Unkindled to face.

"What kinda weirdo are you ? Ya want a piece of us ? Uh!" aggressively accused Carra. The thin man could barely form a sentence. Clearly the group was far outnumbering him physically and mentally. "W-W-W-Why are you so many ? There are never so many!" he clamored. The voice was raucous and clearly not in sync with his appearance. Like a wrinkled lady speaking in the body of a grown man. "HIS VOICE! WHAT THE HELL! WHAT IS THAT VOICE! BAAHAAAAAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

The noise produced by the chortling warrior, the sadistic look in the red eye of Kieran, and the flaming hand of Carra accelerated the rise of our visitor's anxiety. "Calm down, everyone, I met similar invaders before." said Amon, gauging the intruder. "In a sense..." With a similar purpose, Aroth showed empty hands, clearly indicating his peaceful intentions. "Easy there, friend. If your intentions are not dishonorable, we may be able to..."

Without waiting for more, the strange-faced visitor ran away screaming with his abnormally aged voice.. "SHIT!" This would not do. "Hold it right there!" shouted Osadin. Half of the Ashen Ten joined him in pursuit of the intruder. They went down the stairs, trying not to step on each other. Gyron joined as well, just in time to see the next happenings. In the dark bowel of the tower, chaos happened before the unmoving pursuers. The azur man was rolling into the furniture, not looking at his path because of his excitement. Then, tripping on a damaged section of the wooden planks, he fell to the floor below. The whole spectacle felt pathetic at best.

"Can someone stop him ?" asked Kieran who yearned for blood, or simply for some amount of logic. Pulling something out of his inventory, the invader curled up in prayer behind the partial cover of a wooden barrel. He was returning from whence he came without having given anything to the group except confusion. His survival was mere seconds away. Too bad Master Gyron's spell pierced his back before he could depart. "Ung!" Fatally wounded, the invader began to dissipate into bright-red lights. His ethereal state confirming his status as an otherworldly invader. When nothing remained of him, Kieran could only make some comical banter about it.

"Nice shot for an old bookworm." Gyron shamefully admitted otherwise: "Thank you but... I was aiming for his feet... I never imagined he'd curl up so suddenly. And die so fast..." Aroth could only sigh. "Unfortunate, we may have learned valuable information. Did you feel how many soul he carried, Master ?" "Almost nothing... What a waste of time..." The old man tried to drink more of his Ashen Estus flask, but dryness welcomed his lips. "How fitting. That was also my last spell. I feel tired mentally. Is the bonfire ready ?". "We'll see..." answered a piqued martial-artist who sheathed two swords back into the empty air. A move he didn't appreciate doing repeatedly.

But return to the bonfire they did. It had reverted to an accessible state at the very moment the blue wonder succumbed to its cowardice. The flames produced their mystical properties and all around it took a well-deserved rest. Here they were. Ten nigh-immortal warriors. And they had met someone whose face looked like an wrinkled testicle over a splintered pike. Another moment passed. Osadin was spiralling one of his swords on the stones, sighing away his disappointment. Aiming to train more, he would have welcomed an opportunity to duel someone strong, not whatever the invader was. Aroth, trying to brighten the mood, reenacted his witty banter from the altercation with Kieran:

"He... didn't even respond. People these days, no manners. Would someone share his thoughts ?" Carra was on her back, making her new axe spin over her chest. "Ah've seen disturbin' critters an' malformed demons in my days, but that face, an' that skin, were not somethin' natural." Osadin played devil's advocate. "Who knows. Maybe that appearance and his indecence are viewed as beautiful in his world. I've seen worse to be fair." Amon shrugged, which made his chainmail trunks twinkle and jangle. "So did I. Tis said there exist covenants rewarding their followers with new appearances, but never would I consider becoming so distasteful." Alrof scratched his red beard, and contained a residue of laughter with a coff. " _Bouhem_... As for me, that was the strangest man I ever met. That was funny! If this covenant exists, I'd love to become a giant black sword and scare people to death!" _Good to know..._ Thought many people at the same time.

Aveny smiled honestly. seated in a formal fashion. "I'm not certain... Having my golden hair back would be nice. My skull has been bathed in Sunlight for so long, I am ready to let it rest on my shoulders. An interesting testimony for all present. Aveny used to have hairs colored like daylight ? This, they had to see. "Any thoughts Wise Gyron ?" wondered Amon. The old man could only shake his shoulders and inflate his cheek in bedazzlement. The best he could say was that he had: "Well, I'd like to see those hairs... Oh, um... About the invader, I won few souls from my killing of it... well, him... so he mustn't have integrated much souls. He died from a mere spell after all." massaging his blue beard, he contemplated his own thoughts, "I do feel curious about his hand however. The energy it produced, I think I saw something like that before..."

"A Dark Hand... Darkwraith..." answered Volke. No one bought it. Darkwraith was a familiar term for all of them. Those from the most ancient eras as well as their most modern acolytes had witnessed or faced the dreaded fiends. No way this ancient order of bloodthirsty invader could welcome such a being into its ranks. Kieran couldn't contain his contempt. "Ah! More like a Darkwretch. No way that was a legendary Dark Hand.". "He may have stolen it from somewhere ?" theorized Pavel. "Who knows ?" Osadin absorbed some discarded souls as he continued the conversation. "Most likely. I mean... What sort of Darkwraith runs around other worlds butt-naked, and doesn't even put a decent fight ?" he sighed in desperation. "The world is going mad..." No one knew what to say next.

They didn't want to leave just yet. Pavel gave the final word. "We need to Link the Fire and set things right, the sooner the better." A common nod put the matter at an end. After all, it was just one invader. There would be others. The group now prepared to return to the Shrine and improve their skills and equipments, one more time. Aroth thought to himself: _I hope the next visitor will prove himself more forthcoming._


	14. Old Rat and Fresh Ashes

A faint crisping came out from the straw mattress, for the man above it had woken up. He felt surprised how there were still things to break within his dry bed, it was a wonder how it hadn't turned to dust after so much time had passed. At any rate, he turned his head to the right in order to answer his eternal question. _Am I still locked ?_. As always, the answer was yes. The thin steel pillars of the small prison were still restraining his freedom.

Greirat's imprisonment had lasted ages, and he couldn't even register when a day had passed by. With the world heading towards an Age of Dark, the flow of time had become quite dull. Lothric was now basking in neverending sunlight. But its inhabitants weren't in a state to rejoice about this fact, or even react at all. The Men in front of the iron bars for instance: eight dried soldiers with empty eye sockets, wandering a few steps while moaning quietly, they were in no condition for a conversation.

There weren't so many guards before. Something had attracted them here, or chased them away most likely. After all, what could have possibly called them to little old Greirat ? A proud little thief and a mere Rat among the nobilities ? Who could say... The world had become quite strange lately, more dangerous than it ought to be. And then there were those noisy bell tolls. If the tales were true, then things would become even more agitated, and soon. He could feel it.

In the meantime, he could still play with his collection of items. Almost all of his possessions had been stolen at some point in his life, he had taken hold of them with his own hands one should add. He had come to the great city of Lothric, long ago, with a clear goal; to gather riches from greedy nobles and get them back to the Undead Settlement. Needless to say, things didn't go according to plan. He was doubly stuck, both trapped inside a celland trapped by Lothric's very height, with his loot for sole companion. He had had all the time to become accustomed to them, and had become quite the appraiser. Too bad his potential clients had all succumbed to Undeath and its inevitable insanity.

A bit of time had passed since those large bell sounds had broken the monotony. Though the High Wall was shaken by a drake some time ago, nothing had really changed. The Hollows were still here, and Greirat could only remain still, half-slumbering, half-attentive. He wasn't hungry, being Undead as well. But he had no fear of turning mad. He had a purpose and he could hold on for much longer, an eternity even. But the eternity of inactivity would have to wait. Among the echoes of the building, some voices began to emerge. Voices made by humans.

"Hey ... ask ... question, commander ?"

"... ahead. Those husk are no threat."

The men emitting the voices were sentient and full of life. Their conversation was clearly heard thanks to the shape of the inner corridors and the open space beyond the cell. As a result, the walking corpses were able to notice this new activity. They left their patrol and headed towards the sound of battle. Rusted swords in hand, they had no hesitation in challenging intruders, mad as they had become. Greirat crawled closer to the iron bars and pricked up his ear so he could grasp what the visitors were saying.

"You told me time and time again, but I still can't wrap my head about it; you're an Unkindled, right ?" said a man with a raw speech.

"That is a certainty." answered a cavernous voice, probably covered by a helm.

The clean sound of a blade cutting bones accompanied their discussion.

"But then you said, and you told the others, how you never actually reached the First Flame."

Another Hollow shouts his death rattle. Six left now.

"I have no memory of my hand touching it."

Then came a large sound, like a small explosion of steel against the walls. The old thief could almost hear the ground shake. That is the fruity man continued:

"That was a good one... So, you did burn so what does that mean ? There's two First Flames ?"

"Ah!" this clamor was accompanied by yet another fallen enemy. "I am Ash. Mayhap I reached it another time. A time I do not remember yet."

"Well have you talked to Pavel about it ? You come from the same era. Perhaps he beat you to it, and you simply forgot the rest of your journey, like me. Honestly, thinking about it gives me a headache."

The skirmish had now ended, and the steps of the visitor were approaching Greirat's position.

"That seems... Plausible. I shall converse with him once he..."

Two intruders had now arrived in front of his cell. One was wearing the full set of armor of a lowly knight, All of his body was protected, but the man . hefty due to being made from sturdy iron, yet less elaborate than others of its kind. Another, one head taller than his comrade, was clad in a warrior's garb: An opened iron helm, good chainmail mixed with thick leather, fur bursting out of the boots and arms. That was a typical wear for a man of the North. If one could ignore the massive axe this one was carrying, he'd still intimidated by his tall stature stature. Greirat couldn't help but gaze upon those two from behind his mask. And his glare didn't go unnoticed.

"Well well, a human-like reaction." said the sprung axeman. "This one seems to have his head on straight. Head, umh... That's a mask, right ?"

"Never seen the likes before. Yet, something tells me it is no mark of respect." replied the proud knight.

The giant man approached the cell. Greirat didn't move from his seated position. He doubted those visitors possessed the adequate key. Before the red-haired man touched the door, his companion stopped his effort:

"Stay your hand. Some prisoners are placed thus for a reason."

"Don't worry I'm just looking. I bet the thing's locked anyway."

The old rat kept observing, unsure if he should start a conversation with the duo. After a few seconds of silence, they turned away from the cell to converse.

"Just look at him. Scrawny and depressed. How long has he been here ?"

They were talking in hushed whispers now, but Greirat's keen senses made their words palpable.

"Given how none cared enough to open the cage before the Curse took the city, he was either too unimportant, or too dangerous to release."

"Right, yeah. But where I'm from leaving someone in a cell until the end of times is seen as a dick move. So let's not do what the others didn't do. Or something."

"I see your point, though I doubt tis a thing we should risk."

"Look commander... Prison changes a man. I mean, your brother has been a decent man so far. So have some hope. Come on, let's just talk to the guy."

"Very well then. Proceed." And so, the red haired man pressed his forearm against the iron bars, "Hey there little man. You okay ?" Not answering would be impolite now. Greirat gulped down his anxiety. It was time to socialize with immortal warriors from the past. He stuttered a salutation. "H-Hello good sirs. I'm alright thank you."

"Would you kindly you turn towards us so we may observe you better."

The thief complied, and so he turned himself while remaining seated on the ground. His most obvious feature was the hood covering his head, resting on a wooden collar and shaped like a carrot. His equipement was plain to see as well; the very same armor set that Lothric conscripts were wearing throughout their lands. And his was just as damaged by the passing of times. The lower legs were laid bare below blue pants, and, since no gauntlet had survived until this day, both arms were breathing the air. The armored Unkindled commented thus: "Despite your clothings, I doubt you were part of this city's milice."

No use hiding it... Greirat nodded:

"No, I was not. This mask is mostly given to criminals. But you, sirs, are definitely no jailer. And judging by all the bell tolls, you must be of that unkindled ash."

With no delay, the knight gave confirmation:

"We are."

Honesty for honesty, was it ? That was a good sign. Thoughts rushed in the prisoner's mind. Their arrival meant new possibilities for an escape, and perhaps to reach the woman he had left behind. There were also suspicions, but he had nothing to lose anymore.

"Remarkable. To think every time the bell rang, a Champion emerged. There must be an army of you now."

"Ah! Close enough!" answered the bulkier Unkindled happily. "I am named Ardent Alrof! Proud member of the Faraam order of mercenaries! Pleasure!" This joviality pushed the old rat to raise the corners of his mouth. He liked the man already.

"Eh. Well it's... very good then! And I am Greirat the Thief. As such, I would gladly offer my service. But I would need favors first.

"Typical... What manner of favors ?"

"Only two of them. First, of course, is my freedom. I can't be of much help behind bars. If you could find the key and release me, It would be a small joy. But the true kindness would be to deliver something for me. Promise to help, and I will serve you and reach your Shrine..."

So far, the knight hadn't interfered with his request, he was simply considering it. Meanwhile, his companion had taken a seat at the prison's bureau and was taking care of his giant chunk of steel.

"Pray tell, how would you reach the Shrine ?"

Ah, the tales mention how the warriors come from different ages. So his ignorance of the modern ways isn't really odd. Greirat explained:

"This becomes possible by becoming your servant through solemn vows. This way I am bound to your task and will be allowed into your sanctuary, directly transported and ready to serve. You could say it's a convenient covenant. Hihihi."

The idea intrigued the ancient warriors, as could be expected. The knight seated himself on the ground in contemplation. Good sign that he was interested in the concept.

"This Age does have mysterious ways." he commenced, "Would you really make such an oath with now ensuing regrets ? To place your fate in the hands of others ?"

"Yes... I have nowhere else to go, after all... When Lothric lifted itself above the clouds, all hope of climbing back down disappeared. The Castle is a dreadful place, and there isn't a living soul left in the city. What could a mere thief achieve exactly ? But, if you free me, and promise to help me, then my skills will be put to use. What do you say ?"

Looking through the holes in his hood, Greirat tried to stay rigid. He wasn't lying, and hoped his would-be savior thought as much.

"I do not feel treachery in your voice, prisoner."

"Then ?"

The knight pulled his gauntlet deeper into place, and looked like he was preparing to depart. The strong armed man got up from his chair right away.

"It is agreed. For now, we shall keep our eyes open for the key. But we will first converse with our companions about your plight, of this you have my word."

"Thank you, t-that's all I'm asking." Greirat didn't know if bowing would be a good idea, so he remained still.

"But before we go..." continued the young knight, "There is one thing we would need to know. Where are the Lords of Cinders ?"

This was a tough one. Greirat wasn't certain how the rest of the legends went.

"The Lords ? I'm not sure... in the castle ? Most likely ? It's entrance is within a building with a great rose window. It's as good a start as any."

"Most likely ?" Repeated Alrof, curious.

Not good not good not good.

"W-well, I've been imprisoned for a while now. They might have left, but I'm...

"Calm yourself, we know where it is, and we shall see what fate has in store for us. I thank you for your time, Greirat, fare you well."

The noble warrior turned away with his friend in tow. The friend raised an arm in friendship without looking back.

"Hang in there little man."

"Yes good luck! I'll, hang here, obviously... Where else can I go..."

It was only after the two of them had fully departed that our aged prisonner realised something; the knight hadn't shared his name at all. That wasn't a good sign... With this last thought muraging his mind, Greirat let himself fall back into the straw mattress. The squealing plants chanted again as Greirat weighted upon them. He resolved himself to wait for his freedom. He could do little else.


	15. Battles of Late

At the foot of the great Castle of Lothric, beyond the Graveyard of Ashes, the normally silent Firelink Shrine was blessed with activity. It's old stones echoed with small talks, active exploration, and the sound of battle. In front of the bonfire, in the middle of the great chamber, two Unkindled were sparring in preparation. The Ruthless Kieran, professional killer wielding a long estoc and a target shield, was pitted against the Swift Osadin and his two curved blades.

The spectators to this conflict were: the beautiful Firekeeper, the crestfallen Hawkwood, Aveny the devout Servant of Sunlight, and Carra the Bloomseer, they kept silent while the second battle drew to a close. Also present, but uninterested, was Pavel, herald of the way of White, he was busy conversinging with the lone Lord of Cinders, Ludleth the Exiled.

"Could you tell me more about Courland." asked Pavel with utmost respect.

"Ah. I have just the revelation for you. Courland's foremost studies concerned the art of Transposition. Twas not belike putting the essence souls back into this world, shaping them into solid form."

"Verily ? How can we gain advantage from this art ?"

While the exchange ran its course, another duel had ended below. Kieran was now pressing his hand against his bleeding neck, acting as if affected by a mere torticollis. The violent leaking made it clear, however, that he had lost the fight.

"Aaah," he said with delight. "Warm blood feels so much better than a Hollow's innards. So, are you satisfied with a killer as your partner ?"

Osadin, on the other hand, wasn't smiling and had yet to catch his breath, his victory had demanded much efforts.

"Yes, very. Hollows are predictable, while you are extremely devious. It can't compare."

Still holding back the red flow, the assassin seated nonchalantly at the bonfire, and his lethal wound closed immediately. Back on his feet while Osadin was drinking from a blue flask, he smirked evilly: "I'll take that as a compliment!". He suddenly lunged his sword, almost piercing the swordsman's eye. Time for round three.

The fights went on and on. Whenever a grave blow landed, the injured party simply drank some Estus or absorbed the bonfire's magic, and continued the battle. While no soul could be gained from the process, the experience, the thrill of the competition and the adrenaline it produced felt invaluable. The two swallowed the pain without complaint. When the eighth struggle was finished, the two agreed to end it with the ninth. They took their stances once more, and the spectators discussed casually.

"Who'd ya think'll win this time ?" said Carra.

"Kieran is Ruthless, as he likes to say. I fear he still has nefarious acts in store..." answered the gracious Aveny. "Two souls on him."

The pyromancer crossed her arms in ponderation: "Meh... Osadin's gettin' faster. An' faster means he'll cut him up before anything happens. Yer on."

The combat started without a gong. The killer extended his thin blade suddenly, which Osadin deflecte. He did so for the next. His second blade grazed Kieran's nose whose tip bled a little. The two swords carried their wielder with them as Osadin followed there motion with an involuntary step. Kieran used this opening to strike the swordsman's chin with his small shield. This sudden aggression successfully surprised the man of the East as he stumbled back and released his left sword. His head was spinning, his hazy and he wasn't sure where right and left where. Thus, and he couldn't defend himself properly from what came next. Kieran's estoc pierced his biceps.

But against all odds, the pain had brought Osadin back into the game. He launched his steeled head back, right on Kieran's jaw. As a result, the assassin let go of his blade as well, and staggered away out of sight. Osadin turned himself around as fast as he could, he couldn't let this opportunity slip by. With his remaining steel, he cut the assassin's achille's heel and watched him fall to the ground with a contained scream: "Urrr...".

Victory was near for Osadin. He approached his prey immediately and brought a pointy tip close to the assassin's red eye. But right as Osadin's blade closed in on its target a firebomb fell from the heavens, producing a fiery explosion on his back. Where did it come from ? The burning man immediately jmped away by reflex and rolled among the ashes to extinguish the flames. A difficult task because of the embedded sword in his arm. Once he had saved himself, the end of a curved sword awaited him, held by Kieran. The cunning slaughterer presented a tilted head and wide eyes. He could have killed him directly, and that made our favorite assassin the final victor.

"It's my win, I believe." he explained "You never noticed how I drank some Estus will you were drunk from my shield strike, and you never saw how I launched a bomb straight up." Osadin both sighed and laughed at his lack of awareness. Keran offered a helping hand. "But not bad, not bad. Try to be as base as me, and the old beggar outside is as good as dead."

Osadin yielded and lifted himself up, and removed the .

"He is no beggar, this I know. Urg... I don't feel like I stand a chance without using some kind of ruse. But honestly, how come you, an assassin, know so much about duelling ?"

Kieran whipped the air with his blade before putting it away.

"Fuhu... A good assassin kills before there's a contest... A great assassin adapts when things go wrong. While I never saw how easterlings fight, I have observations to make. Your style of dual-wielding aims to strike the same spot with both blades in sequence. That's good against thick hides or to destabilize a guarding opponent. But against a lightweight fighter ? That's just predictable and easy to avoid. "

"I take it you have experience with dual weapons ?"

"... Probably."

The issue of memory loss had become so common ground among the Ashen Ones that clarifications weren't mandatory anymore.

"Am I ready to defeat the man waiting outside ?"

The Sword-Master guarding the tower had remained ready for a challenge from their very first step in this Age. Now, was Osadin up for a rematch ? Kieran simply shrugged.

"You can kill anyone in this world, as long as they don't pay attention. Why don't you make use of what you have and he doesn't ?" proposed the pale man.

"He cut my hands off with relative ease, remember ? I don't think my armor would amount to much."

Kieran rubbed the ashes away from his black hair. He then corrected his partner:

"That's not what I meant. But since you mentioned it, you better remove your gear."

This idea raised a thin eyebrow: "You think so ?"

"Sure, that'll make you quick on your feet. I don't think you used those clothes when you reached the First Flame."

"Quite right."

"Fuhuhu, also, I'd like to see how Carra will react."

Osadin bit his lips in surprise.

"Ooh... She does appreciate the view of well-developed muscles. Alright then, why not ?"

The thick cloths and good steel were removed from his chest and head and the lightly tanned skin appeared clear to everyone here. The muscles, while not as prominent as Amon or Alrof's, were definitely well-cared for. On the left side of his stomach, a very large horizontal gash occupied the space. Most likely made by a large blade. Kieran whistled from the beauty of the wound. "This is a nice scar." Osadin massaged the maimed area, his mind tried to recall the history it kept, in vain. "Hum... I'm not sure I remember where I got it." he admitted. Kieran could only smile, showing his sharp teeth: "Kehehe, too bad. We have so much in commun, it's a good thing." and the sadist tapped below his evil eye to make his point clear. It was unclear how being similar to a psychopathic killer was a good thing though.

Since the action was fully over, Aveny jumped down from one of the thrones and into the ashen circle. "Are you finished ?" she asked to make sure.

"Yes Milady." replid Osadin.

Exhaling innocently, she smiled peacefully at the victor. "Thank you for your efforts Ser Kieran."

"Sure ?"

Going back to caring for their well-being, she gave a kind remark: "Thankfully, the two of you did not need my miracles. I would prefer if you used rusted weapon the next time. But I pray your dangerous training has been fruitful."

"Risking life or death has always inspired me. I feel more confident in my martial skills now that a true threat has opened my senses."

"As you wish. Your path to victory stands clear now, for the Sun will be encouraging you outside. Believe in its protection O man of the East."

"Ya realise how da Sun is always up lately ?" commented Carra lifelessly. She also looked depressed for some reason.

"Aaaah... yes! And it is the greatest thing this Age has to offer!" her urge to praise her beloved star overwhelmed her. "I shall wait outside while you prepare. Make haste!"

She ran up the stairs in a hurry and brushed past Hawkwood, who hadn't moved away since their first arrival. Startled by the woman's fervour, he gave a rare comment.

"Your... _Lady_... Is a handful. I'd keep an eye on her, if I were you. Ahah..."

Osadin heeded the advice: "Duly noted my good man."

At this moment, two silhouettes appeared in front of the Bonfire. Familiar Men clad in martial apparatuses: a knight and a barbarous man. Both were welcomed by the Firekeeper who bowed gracefully: "Welcome home Ashen Ones."

Osadin shook his friends' hands. So did Kieran. Aveny simply smiled and nodded. Carra managed to say "Heya." Pavel started to head downstairs, his information gathering had finished.

"Alrof, Aroth... How did it go ?" inquired our swordsman.

Alrof removed his helm and answered joyously.

"Quite well, quite well! Dead corpses in our path, and a bit of loot to boot. Aye! And what have you all been up to ?"

After Osadin retold of his special session with Kieran, Aroth explained how the tower's dive went. The matter of Greirat's liberation was intriguing.

"A prisoner's word..." recounted Osadin. "It's better than nothing I suppose."

Aroth removed his steel mask as well, and observed the surroundings.

"Where are the others ?"

The duo was told how how Amon and Volke had gone to train on the High-Wall shortly after their departure, how Aveny had just left, and the fact that Gyron was sleeping somewhere. Osadin was eager to test his skills, so he cut to the chase.

"Well then, you can gather everyone while I go and challenge the Sword Master again."

Alrof placed his large arm over the smaller man's shoulders, in innocent friendship.

"Hohoho ? You ready to go take your revenge swordsman to swordsman ?"

"Erm... I believe so. And should I perish, I can try and try again."

"Bahaha! Don't fail! Because that'd be... embarrassing..."

Osadin sighed. "Feel free to come... I wouldn't mind."

And so Osadin headed outside, with the totality of his comrades in tow.

 _Snoooooore..._

Gyron was sleeping over a gravestone, down the hill. around him were the corpses of Hollows. Those hadn't been killed through magic, since there weren't gaping holes anywhere on their bodies.

 _Snoooooore..._

"Master Gyron ? How did you subdue those fiends ?"

"With my blade." answered the sleeping Gyron with no delay whatsoever. The old sage always awakened quicker than thought. A true wonder of physiology. The Learned sorcerer stretched himself up and questionned the gathered party. "Going somewhere, I imagine ?"

"Ya. We're gonna watch Osadin get cut inta pieces by his _connaissance_." joked the mischievous Carra.

Osadin chuckled worryingly: "Ah... Ahahaha... Don't curse my action already... please..."

At any rate, they departed. On the left side of the building, on the road towards a great tower parallel to a damaged clifface, a different sort of Champion awaited. The old warrior, the Sword-Master, was still here, impassible. As last time, he was carrying a long katana and wearing brown rags that barely covered his outer organs. He kept gazing into the distance without taking note of the approaching group. Osadin stepped away and entered his forbidden range.

Reacting to the intrusion, the great saint mechanically raised his sword and took one step down the stone stairs.

"You again..." he said, indifferently.

Osadin inhaled and firmly grasped his twin swords. He took a lowered stance and contracted his leg muscles.

"I will prove worthy of a final strike this time."

"Then come..."

The battle started without more dramatisation.

Dodging, striking, ducking, deflecting... They proved their experience in single combat. Four minutes of great violence passed by under seven quiet gazes. Neither of them were giving an inch. After a while, both had proved able to lightly injure their adversary. But Osadin was the one on the backhand, for he was getting tired more rapidly.

The next contact with the master's heavy blade led to him falling among the cut stones of the Shrine. Thinking quickly, the trained Unkindled threw a handful of dust and rocks directly into his opponent's eyes. It was very effective. The Sword Master missed and his momentum carried him away from Osadin. And this failure allowed the latter to and a powerful blow. Twin swords cut diagonally at the bare chest. The damage was great, though it felt like Osadin had cut an old tree and not a wrinkled ribcage. Impressive vigour for his age.

The young man retreated and reached for his Estus. In the meantime, the Sword Master cut the air repeatedly and sidestepped against the wall to avoid being destabilized again, not realising his opponent had taken the opportunity to fully recover. When vision returned, the Sword Master's face didn't betray any emotion. He simply took back his stance and prepared for the next brawl. He sheathed his blade in order to use the scabbard as a propulsion. The next strike would be his strongest.

"I see..." Osadin crouched himself and placed his swords to his sides, in preparation for another running strike. Aroth and the others swallowed anxiously.

A moment passed over the Shrine's cliff. A small rock, product of erosion, tumbled down from the summit of the building. Rolling from the momentum, it would stop moving once it reached the bottom. Without a word said, the two martial-artists agreed on the signal. Moments later, the rushed to meet each other at the very same time. ONe step, two step and they made contact. The sounds of steel meeting flesh echoed around them, like a bloodied whip against aged leather.

They were now standing at one step from each other with their backs turned, and the wind howling around them. Blood had been spread on both their blades. Osadin curled up first as he tried to hold back his opened belly."Arg..." Still alive, he desperately produced his golden vial. His opponent didn't turn back yet, with good reason. The blade-master had been cut twice below his armpit and was now shedding a greater amount of blood, an injury he couldn't heal.

Feeling his end was near, the old fighter closed his eyes and proclaimed: "Well done...". And so the elder fell on his knees, weakened by blood-loss, and slowly turned to ashes. The wind carried them away without a sound. Osadin was breathing heavily, and lurched towards his comrades. "That's that, I think.". His injury were still too great to ignore, and he began falling towards the cliff.

The Ashen Ones Pavel and Alrof immediately caught his fall and pulled him away from the Sword-Master's small territory. "Good job." said the strongman. Once they reached the group, Aveny started to heal the rest of the wounds. The miracle occured in silence, and, as expected, the Sword master reappeared above the stairs rising like a puppet pulled by his neck. Osadin waited for the cleric's signal, then arose and came to talk with the honorable warrior.

"I remembered a little..." he admitted "That wasn't your true strength either, was it ? Death and time have taken their toll on you. Haven't they, little brother ?"

"Hmpf..." was all the ancient blademaster gave for answer. But he didn't deny that fact.

The Unkindled were baffled by this revelation. Their comrade still had living relatives in this land so far into his future. What a strange occurrence... Alrof couldn't believe it: "You're his big brother ? But he looks like a grandfather!". Gyron immediately gave a plausible explanation: "Osadin simply remained ashes for a long time while his brother matured through every Age." That was simple enough to grasp. "Oh yeah, that makes sense. Impressive how he didn't turn mad after all this time."

Osadin twirled his moustache ceremoniously. Nostalgy was grasping him tightly:

"Even without my memory loss, I never would have recognised you without a fight." he commenced "Last time I saw you, you had become a bodyguard to Shiva the Collector. The two of you had joined a covenant of hunters. Now, how exactly did you end up here ?"

The Sword Master looked towards Lothric Castle as he tried to remember the details.

"... The Hunt ended, long ago... My master and I departed when the woods disappeared. We searched for new targets and precious weapons throughout the ages, throughout worlds... We got separated in a frozen land, and I never saw him again. I could only retreat to our base in Firelink Shrine. But my oath as a bodyguard urged me to find a new principal, according to our laws. My best option was to wait for Unkindled at this Shrine the only beings capable of defeating me. The rest, you can probably guess."

Aroth Arklaw approached the stairs to converse: "Brave elder, could you tell us more about your..." Violently, the Sword Master placed a hand on his single-edged sword and prepared for battle. He roared like a beast and forced Aroth to immediately retreat. "Maybe later." said the knight confusedly It was very disturbing how the Sword Master remained hostile after everything that happened. What was in his mind exactly ? But, calmed down, he continued his story.

"I won't leave this place. My homeland has evolved without me, it has lost itself and holds no more value. Lothric has proved itself unworthy. Its vile watchdog is enough reason to protect those I find deserving. That is all I am now. I will defeat or defend my masters until my body breaks. Now be gone, if you won't prove yourself."

Osadin couldn't let things end here. He had so many questions. "Kama, brother, you don't have to ke..."

"I DO..." interrupted the man with a strong voice and a still face.

Alrof was wrong, he had turned mad, in a sense. There was no point in staying here for so many years, and to be so stuck in his ways. Osadin realised that, but he simply lowered his head in acceptance. His brother had made his choice too long ago. It was not only a question of honor, it was a matter of keeping the last sparks of sanity after untold millenia had passed. None of the Ashen Ten desired to earn the bodyguard's oath, for now. They retreated back into the Shrine, Aroth had things to share with them after all. The Swift warrior was the last to turn away from the cliff.

"Osadin." said his old friend.

The young easterling gave his full attention to his relative. Was there hope after all ?

"Should you find my fallen equipment in the Castle, do not feel guilty. Help yourself, let it stay in the family."

It wasn't what he expected, but that was a start.

"I give you my word, I'll find them and care for them."

The Ashen Ones returned to the Shrine here and there, there were new things to consider before their final approach on Lothric's Castle.


	16. A New Dear Resolution

"You really don't want this sword back ? Isn't it a... family heirloom of some sort ?" said Kieran while the other Unkindled destroyed the Hollows who had reformed throughout the hills.

The single-edged sword shined under the dim sunlight. It was very sharp, but its thin shape implied a delicate hand should wield it, lest its power never shined true. This Uchigatana now belonged to the Ruthless and crafty Kieran. It had been so ever since his tactics bested the martialy superior Sword Master. On the way back from the Shrine's sidewalk, the assassin had pulled it out of its hiding place in remembrance. Osadin of the East didn't seem to strongly want it back:

"My brother didn't request it back, remember ? You can keep it. You earned it."

The pale-faced man sheathed the blade before answering honestly:

"I appreciate this honorable sentiment, I do. But honestly, this blade doesn't _cut it_ for me, fuhuhu. My pointy tool is enough for now. So just take it."

Indeed, though time had passed since the exemplary blade was pulled from a stone, Kieran hadn't employed it at all, in any of the group's excursions. He had prefered to use his long estoc to pierce and carve his enemies. Osadin shrugged and respectfully bowed: "In that case, I humbly accept."

"Ah." cackled the killer as he tossed the weapon to his comrade. The swordsman caught the sheathed blade in mid air, and the killer continued: "Don't be so ceremonious Easterling. The strong don't need to show humility.". In response, Osadin massaged his neck: "Hm... A strange philosophy, but I'll take that as a compliment."

As they finished their chat, the group had reached the building's entrance.

"Are you done ?"

The young woman, Aveny, whose mace was greasy with black blood, delicately placed her free hand over her heart.

"We are done. Praise be to the Sun they are still weak when compared to us. But... How come there were more of them than before ? And how can they rise back from death so quickly ?"

The knight in armor, Aroth, was stepping back and forth between the graves in irritation.

"I know not, but it worries me greatly. Will the High-Wall turn harsher as well ? Mayhap tis the reason why so many of use were called by the Bells."

The last comment was made by the greatly bearded Gyron, who massaged his furry chin in contemplation once more:

"I need more data to reach a conclusion, but until then, Aroth's idea is our more plausible one. The world is dangerous, so it spontaneously created more of us heroes."

"Verily." replied Aroth.

"Possibly..." continued Osadin.

Kieran stretched his thin frame and sat on a nearto grave stone. Gyron gladly imitated him.

"Welp... All that's left is our flaming witch and her knight-repentant. Lets talk some more."

To be clear, the last missing members, Pavel and Carra, had come further int the Cemetary of Ash late because they wanted to check if Gundyr or other monsters had arised as well. It took five minutes, during which the Ashen Ones discussed varied subjects, for the duo to return with good news. Good news meaning that there was nothing to report. With all minds at peace, the eight warriors could finally returned from their short absence. Alrof simply walked up the hill and called the group to join him with a simple move from his neck. _Time to go home and stop asking riddles_ , was what the strong man probably meant by this.

They entered the Firelink Shrine once more, and the stillness of their surroundings washed over them. Inside, nothing seemed out of order. The bonfire in the middle was burning brightly, the ash dispersed around the place produced their respectful atmosphere, Andre's constant hammering could be faintly heard. Though Undead, they could smell the sanctity in the very air. The ancient place was, had been and will be a most comforting refuge for warriors of the end times.

However, there was something new since they left to observe a duel. Next to the highest stone throne, a man was standing with his arm crossed. Kieran reacted immediately: "Well I'll be...".

"Someone you know ?" asked the old Gyron.

The assassin advanced with a grin on the corner of his face. He invited the group to join him: "You'll see. Come along my ashen friends." Kieran was being overly joyous. And for once, blood, insults or misery weren't involved. Curiosity had stricken the seven souls, and they followed in silence.

Hawkwood, who was still seated with a defeated look, made a simple wave to greet the group. Some Ashen Ones answered in kind and continued. Once they arrived up the stairs and near the great seat of power, they could see the details of the new arrival.

The man resting his back to the ancient stone was well-dressed. A cape. Most obvious was a silvery mask below a tricorn hat. It hid the man's features perfectly, but Kieran had no hesitation as to the visitor's identity when he greeted him:

"Leonhard! Still hiding your shame under that silly mask I see."

The stranger lifted his head:

"Kieran... still showing off your shattered eye I see. I thought Creighton had cut off your neck. Clearly, you made him see what you wished."

"Oh, he cut it alright. But he underestimated my Undead nature and ran off without checking. Fuhuhu... Sometimes, losing your head is the best way to get ahead in life."

"Then are those your... friends ?"

Upon hearing this conjecture, Kieran snorted.

"Ah! _Friends_ he says! Why not ?"

His six comrades were hesitant to join the conversation, they simply observed in silence the peculiar pair. So much information could be gleaned from their every words.

"Unkindled, all of them ?" wondered the masked man.

"All of us, yeah."

"Us ? Well well... You actually did it... Quite a madman you turned out to be."

The two got closer to each other and shook hands firmly. They cackled softly and shamelessly, producing an aven uneasier atmosphere for the rest of the audience. Alrof scratched his cheek to get rid of a phantom itch.

"I don't get it... Did that man send a killer after you ?"

"Heh... It's complicated."

Aroth couldn't just act silent forever, he was the leader of the group after all. Sort of...

"A story for another time then. Would you kindly introduce us ?"

The murderer was alright with this, he rubbed his hands together and was on the brink of licking his tongue.

"Alright then. Fellow Unkindled, meet Leonhard the Ringfinger. Prime member of Rosaria's Fingers, scarred figure in the shadows, professionnal tongue collector, and a former associate of mine. Don't worry, he's friendly."

"Admirably put..." So it was. "And who are we ?" demanded the curious visitor.

Kieran obliged him:

"Over here is his lordship Aroth, Arklaw of Carim, defender of the weak and noblest of souls." The man tried to contain a sigh. Kieran pursued, choosing to reduce the amount of details: "The big man behind is Alrof the Ardent... The bald beauty is Aveny the Sun-lover. That tomboy is Carra of the Great Swamp. Then, there's Gyron, as old and wise as he looks. And the one that looks like a single father is Pavel, a herald of White if I remember correctly. Also, here's Osadin. There are more of us, but just tell them you're with me if you meet them."

The introduction was as accurate as it could be. Though it obviously made some miscontents.

"A pleasure to meet all of you. I'll do my best to remember your names." said the masked man as he bowed beautifully. "I trust our lost Thumb hasn't been... untoward with you ? Since he considers you as friends..."

Pavel answered civilly:

"He has proved... invaluable in our quest. A little erratic, true, but manageable."

"Thank you, I like you too." Kieran turned towards his former colleague: "But for the record I'm Ruthless Kieran, silver spoon. Not the Thumb, Ruthless. Give that silly title to Creighton already, I didn't die for your pretty face."

Leonhard sighed and was visibly restraining himself. "Yes, of course... How could I forget. But onto business. It seems you're in desperate need of added power, hum ?"

"Oh ? What exactly do you mean ?" asked Osadin.

"Why, you're all ragged and incredibly wary of me. It's as if you weren't in your best day."

"Do you know about our plight ? We have awoken depowered and deprived."

"I have no knowledge of any alteration of Ashen warriors. Never with any I've met. But from a glance, your group is a festival of mediocrity. Humf... Your equipment isn't worth a good soul."

"Ya here to laugh at us then ya masked twit ?" toned Carra with a green eyebrow raised and flames on her fingertips. Leonhard considered her for half a moment, and sighed.

"Hold your fires, Carra was it ? You misunderstand me, for I am here to offer help. The sound of Bells has been heard, so I have come to propose an alliance. Or rather, a friendly invitation. Needless to say, I didn't expect to meet an old acquaintance among your kind. Are you ready to hear me out or should I find other, more powerful warriors ?"

It was time for a team meeting. The eight UNkindled jumbled up to discuss in a modccum of secrecy. Alrof didn't like that man and didn't want to hear him at all. Carra neither. Aveny was willing to hear the man out. Gyron pragmatically announced how the man, obviously stronger than all of the Ashen Ones together, hadn't killed them yet. Aroth agreed with this practical statement. Osadin just nodded in approval. As for Pavel, he just deferred to the majority. The verdict ? A reluctant hearing and many guards kept up.

"Get to the point." said the red haired giant, eager for the group to return on their adventure.

"All of you are Unkindled. You need power to defeat the Lords, and the Fingers could use more recruits. As such, these red eyes are for you."

In Leonhard hands were multiple red crystals, like shards from a whole piece of artistry. They emitted a faint glow and none among the group had suspicions about their nature. The herald of White shrank at their sight:

"The dreaded eyes of invasion ? What trickery is this ?"

Leonhard still offered the presents.

"This is no mockery. I am offering them, freely. I want to aid you in your Lord-seeking adventure. Use these to pillage embers and heighten your strengths. Hehe... What else are unkindled ashes good for ?"

"Aaah... So you're saying Unkindled get embers from invasions ? What, did you experiment on a Champion or something ?"

"Something like that... Now we are seeking promising customers, and if they can get something else as bonus, then it's one more reason to help us."

"That's smart. And I'm sure everyone here is grateful. Some might even want to join the merry band afterwards, fuhuhu."

"Humpf..."

Leonhard placed his back against the throne and waved his farewell to the group.

"Use them as you see fit. Come back to me if you find the experience... valuable."

The eight Undead understood. They returned Alrof, warrior of Faraam, was the first to make his case.

"We get free embers if we defeat people in other worlds, uh ?That means we can train against real people, and get souls and more power. Gotta admit, it"s tempting. Especially if they're as pathetic as the skinny man from last time. I don't like that man though."

"What's not to like ?" asked Kieran joyfully.

Alrof took a serious voice.

"His gaze... He's hiding something."

"Huuu... He's wearing a mask though ?"

"So what ?"

"Nothing..."

The cleric, Aveny, was hesitant and remined seated by the candles. Gyron approached her paternally:

"Is something the matter ?"

"It feels inadequate to invade otherworldly Champions for a meager reward."

"Sun Lady, there is an infinity of worlds available. No matter how many poor sods you butcher, you'll always find others to feed on."

"Hum... I'm... not worried about running low on... victims..." the young girl breathed in, and out, and in : "I am simply unsure if slaughtering our way to the Flame is a virtuous path?"

"Aveny has a point. While gathering power and trinkets is a priority as we explore the land, tis not our aim to become slaughterers of innocents. I am not saying this gift is worthless mind you, my concern is towards the goal of those calling themselves Rosaria's Fingers. Kieran, would you enlighten me on your"

"Certainly your lordship. Our red eyes allow you to. They are our covenant's. In return, she lends us her power to . The covenant could use some an extra hand, literally, in gathering those tongues and saving the mute goddess."

"Then, there are no downside to our using the broken red eyes, is there ?"

"None whatsoever. Except for revenge from those you invaded, obviously. That being said, the main reason for otherworldly vendetta is when you act like a jerk over their corpse, so don't do that and you'll be just fine."

Osadin had picked up on something else the killer had said.

"Wait, the lady he talked about, Rosaria, she's able to change the appearance of people ? She's the one Amon mentioned ?"

Kieran thought for a moment.

"Possibly."

Gyron approached the assassin and turned around him with hands tucked on his aged back: "Well, young man, why didn't you say so at the time ? Some mysteries should be resolved at once."

"Yes, care to explain ?" added Pavel

Kieran looked at them with his glowing gaze. He smiled in innocence:

"Would you believe me if I said it slipped my mind ?"

Another memory issue ? Pavel became guilty about his comment:

"Verily ? I'm sorry to..."

"Because it didn't." interrupted the red-eyed man. "I was keeping it for myself, just in case. Fuhuhu."

"Oh..."

That made sense, given the free and sadistic nature of this companion. Alrof shook his head, trying to blow away his uneasiness:

"Brlb... You really need to stop laughing like that all the time, it's starting to make me cringe a bit."

Kieran tilted his head, savoring the attention.

"Heh... I'll try. Anyways, we should finish preparing and join our departed warriors. We're advancing slowly enough as it is."

On this note the eight finalised their preparations. A last stop with each merchant to buy some gear... Friendly chatter between appreciated others. It didn't take too long until they were all back in the anti chamber, in front of the bonfire. Aroth of Astora stood in front of them all, observing the rest of the Shrine in wait for a return to order. His thoughts were dispersed, there were so much to do and, as Kieran said, they were so slow to advance. His eyes stopped when he saw the blind Firekeeper.

Her crown, the silvery ornament that fully covered her eyes was similar to the headwear of royalties. She herself was a great beauty, a pure soul, and the victim of a fate most unkind. BUt it wasn't her mere looks that attracted the man's eye. She felt strangely familiar to the Arklaw of Carim. A strange sense of déja vu oftenly arose whenever he observed her from afar, but neither him nor her were able to confirm any sort of shared past. When it seemed the group had calme down, he took his iron helm out of his inner box and held it against his side as he called the group to order with a clap. Their objectives had to be made clear.

"Hear me, my fellow. Our foremost aim is to reach the building offering access to the castle and the Lords therein. At the same time, we may around for the key to Greirat's cell. Finally becoming embered would help us garner knowledge from other words, and make us complete. Any questions ?" None was asked. "Is everyone ready ?"

"Oh yes. Ready to serve your Lordship." joked our professionnel killer with a bow and an arm over his heart.

Carra was amused by the lack of respect, but she chose not to participate in accordance with her oath from the last expedition. Alrof snickered but did not much else. Aroth's cheek swelled. _This will turn_ _tiresome_. _But tis a lesser price to pay for loyalty..._ He then put on his helmet with forced vigor. "Fair enough. Now, give your farewell to the denizens of the Shrine. Our journey will last longer, for we need to go farther into this accursed land than ever before."

"Yeah, five towers a day ain't much ta be proud of." concurred the pyromancer.

They quickly laid matter to rest. To Hawkwood, the eight gave a simple nod. To the quiet Lord Ludleth, a bow. They had said his farewell to Andre and the Handmaiden earlier. Finally, Aroth kindly addressed the Firekeeper. "We depart Milady."

In response, she bent her knees and lowered her back gracefully, as she had done so many times. Then, with a quiety voice as sweet as her smile, she responded thus: "Before departing. Couldst thou lend me thine ears ? All eight of you ?"

That was novel from her part. The Unkindled Ones obliged her as by remaining in the center of the Shrine. The Firekeeper rubbed her hands together in. She was uneasy and showed a semblance of shyness. "As I understand from the tales thou hast shared. Thine path and thine flesh hath been altered by forces unknown, Ashen Ones. I fear thine quest may prove harsher than e'er could forbeared. I advise caution in every step thou taketh. Return safe to me, for thine presence be appreciated by this humble servant."

Pavel was deeply moved by her words, he almost let a tear run down his cheek. The rest were equally speechless, for reasons of their own. Before anyone could give a positive answer, the Firekeeper raised her head and gave her final words.

"Mayest thou find victory wherever the flames take you.". Her voice penetrating the core of their beings.

The heroes looked at each other in silence, for no more words needed be said. At the same time, they reached for the stone sword and let themselves disappear into the colored fumes. The Shrine's Maiden was left alone once again, only to wait and pray within her quiet prison. For that was her curse.


	17. Seriousness and Novelties

On one of the endless days of the Age of transition, a cold wind was blowing over the formerly radiant city of Lothric. Within this fresh breeze was carried the sound of battle... Fierce, unholy battle. It was taking place near one of the towers of its Great Wall and over a large building affixed to the fortifications. There, a great black mass was striking the stones and bricks in a raging fit. This creature was one of the Abyss-blighted residents that had slowly infiltrated the realm. As for its current preys, they numbered ten adventurers of varied complexions. The group had kept to a higher ground and had been selectively launching a number of fiery assaults and ranged attacks against the beast, with great effect.

Their initial encounter wasn't as simple. The sudden mutation had taken them by surprise, and a sword had remained stuck in the creature's head as a remainder. But in the end, the infectious beast fell before the brave invaders. A bluish spell landed right on one of its red eyes and made it relent for the last time. The Abyss riddled corpse collapsed on the craggy roof-tiles and regress into nothing else. A shrivelled corpse and a sword were all that was left behind. Above it, the Ashen Ten sighed a shared breath of relief, one less danger to worry about.

"Nice shot Master." complimented an amber-skinned man.

"But of course." answered a bearded wizard.

However, not all had come out unaffected by the first assault. One in particular, Pavel of the Way of White, was still shaking and sweating.

"By the Allfather..." he declared in an exhausted speech. "I still cannot face the Abyss without shuddering. _Gulp..._ Such unholy power from the corruption a mere citizen. And the worse is yet to come..."

A gloomy declaration for the man of Gods. But it was commonly known that he had... difficulties... whenever an Abyss-riddled monstrosity came a bit too close for comfort. He hadn't shared the exact origin of his dread yet, but his comrades had respected that. Nevertheless, faced with this nth case of cowardice, the Ardent warrior of Faraam just had to roll his eyes and grumble:

"Oh for crying out loud... The Firekeeper made all that speech about the importance of our quest, and you're already complaining about facing some black slugs. Get a grip! Or the Shrine Lady won't like you back..."

"Wha..? I... Er... I... Er... Excuse me ?" stuttered our mature herald.

Pavel's eyes switched from up to down, to left and right and down again. He stood unable to produce a suitable answer. This reaction brought pause to the remaining companions. They exchanged looks between themselves in playful puzzlement. Was the herald infatuated with the Firekeeper ? Possible, though it'd remain doomed from the start given their sworn duties. Aroth secretly asked Aveny about this, but the Dame of the Sun was as uninformed as him.

Appearance-wise, Pavel had a slim yet muscular body under his armor. His face, while not devoid of wrinkles, was fresh and attentive. His complexions gave off the feeling of a man in his mid-thirties. His real age, like all Ashen Ones, was uncertain due to the Undead Curse and its effects. All in all, he had decent looks. So, when the subject came up, the Unkindled had many questions and assessments flowing through their heads:

 _Are Heralds of White allowed to feel love?_

 _Hoho? Was this stuck-up herald ever in love before?_

 _Does he actually fancy the Firekeeper? That's quite an assumption._

 _Oh my Sun... Is he blushing?_

 _I hope this doesn't affect his devotion..._

 _That guy is thinkin' too much._

 _Bah... Youngsters... The world is crumbling as the Fire fades. Why spend time and energy on romance?_

 _...Can we go..?_

At any rate, Pavel had sufficiently cleared his thoughts to prepare a semblance of response: "I mean... I am not really seeking our Firekeeper's attention. Our fair maiden should remain as such; a maiden. Er... W-w-w-what I meant was... B-besides, I cannot destroy my deepest fears through mere combat... I mean... Er... I'm sorry... I will try to do better."

Alrof was just standing there, observing the flustered act. The corners of his mouth shook for a spell. He turned away from the polearmist in the middle of the statement. This emote was for a cause most innocent; not to betray his emotion. Because, as should be expected from the fun-loving lively man, the muscles of his face were working hard to contain his natural laughter. He certainly hadn't expected his half-serious claim to have that kind of an impact. That much was quickly understood by all who could see his face. The rest of the Unkindled, positioned in front of him and behind Pavel, could see what their dashing friend was going through. Some presented silent smiles, others couldn't be bothered, but they all had a clear opinion. Seeing this, Alrof elected to give a reply and put the matter at rest, at least before Pavel understood what he was going through.

"Ahem..." he started "J-Just don't cry to the Gods everytime something tough shows up."

The concerned agreed : "Yes... That is what I meant... Shall we continue ?"

A somewhat decent end to this odd matter. And now, back to adventuring. The group descended on the angular rooftop the beast had died upon. The surroundings were littered with creeping plants and the detritus from the decaying stones of higher monuments. Since it stood lower than the tower's extension, they had to make use of a ladder, or of the sturdiness their legs. Aroth and Amon, the two nobles of Carim, closed the march. The scenery was clear of all hostility now, and the group had dispersed to look for valuables and additional paths, they used the opportunity to discuss for a moment...

"No problems so far..." said the pale-faced one, gracefully picking up his steel sword on the floor. The man's movements were born from intense training and a noble surrounding. Never once did he betrayed his origin, even when his attire was little more than a sheet of close over his genitals. Now bare of chest by choice, he still wouldn't show weakness of body or mind "Nothing can stop our march." He declared to his adopted brother. Aroth of Carim was dressed in a fuller outfit, an armor that fully covered him and his face. He decided to give his thought on the matter:

"Great, is that how you see it? We barely left the Wall. Our pace deserves no commendation." He tried to exhale his impatience away. _"Sigh. We_ need to hasten our advance, yet the constants of Undead ambushes will delay us, this I know."

Amon went against his sibling's negativity: "We have all the time in the world, Brother. And let not our nigh immortality be forgotten. We may rise and rise again, so long as our goal remains clear. Now I do not know what a man like you would wish for, Ô great and powerful Arklaw." Amon smiled peacefully, like an innocent child: "But I would be happy to help."

The knight wasn't swayed by this show of confidence "Do not test my patience, just move out." Amon left without a glance back, and a grin fixed on his face. Aroth wasn't happy with this resolution, but it was time to move. He hoped the others wouldn't mind this dispute.

Over the rooftops, praying Hollows could still be found adoring their totems. Those deafened corpses had stopped kowtowing to the grotesque stakes when their brother let the Abyss run free, but the danger had passed and their automated actions had run course again. Only a handful had survived the Abyss' blind rampage, but Kieran and Volke mercilessly cut their throat anyway. Every harvested soul counts in this endless journey, and the two shady men knew that more than most. When enough blood had flowed however, the young thief seemed to perceive something else on this high construct : "That sound... Shiny..?"

Indeed, when the Ashen Ones focused on the sonority, they could hear a faint twinkle. A familiar roll of bells, high of notes, the likes of which could be used to amuse children. Kieran, the closest to the source, tried to ascertain the subject.

"Shiny you say ? Shiny... A Crystal Lizard ?"

Every Unkindled stopped whatever they were doing and paid attention now. Crystal lizards... Small inoffensive reptilians whose appearance is exactly what their namesake would suggest; a lizard covered in bluish crystals. They are famed as source of rare materials, notably the strange titanite rocks and shards that the warriors sorely need to improve their weaponry. In days and ages of struggle, their hunting is simply invaluable. However, those small monsters are fast despite their short legs, and can disappear when given enough time. As a result, pursuing them is the instinctive and most logical reaction of any true adventurer. Before the need for further confirmation, half of the group was hurrying towards the noise.

"Dibs!" squeaked Carra as she ran past the competition. Given her background, she was the deftest at navigating unsteady grounds like the leaning atop the present housing. Kieran and Volke launched themselves as well with a delay. Greed was written upon the face of the first, sheer interest in the eyes of the second. But they weren't able to catch up to the girl.

She launched the first strike on the small creature with her enchanted axe. A failed blow let it escape to the left. Volke was next, scratching the smooth bluish back with his dagger. Kieran had more success when he pierced a leg and forced the little one into a corner. There, death came in the form of fire. With the thump of the Fireball, the ringing crystals ceased their toll and the rest of the party reached the trio. Since the pyromancer had dealt the last blow, the rules of souls rewarded her with a solid treasure that entered her inner space. Pleased with herself, she stretched her back forward to recuperate from the excessive maneuvers. The emote allowed her to see into the depth of the city, below the construction. She turned silent.

The assassin, Kieran, was a bit disappointed to have lost his quarry, with fair reasons. He approached the girl near the border of the roof, ready to give a glib comment like he oftenly did: "Well, you got your..."

Carra cut him off with lost enthusiasm. "Shush yer mouth weir... Ahem..." she excused herself: "Sorry... Keep it down, please. There's trouble brewin' down there."

Kieran, intrigued, took a peek at what she was watching. And he maintained that peek. He was soon imitated by the rest of the group. All beheld what Below them, a fight of unearthly violence was taking place. First, the surroundings should be described because of their magnificence.

In this opened area, the headless bodies of dozens of Lothric Knights laid collapsed here and there. They were unmoving yet seemed merely resting. All these armored corpses were surrounded by broken blades and spears, like flowers blooming from their death. And in the middle of this square was a marble statue of a kneeling man in intricate cloth. It looked to the sky, with an air of both pride and frailty. In his hand was a sword as long as the man himself. But, despite the wonders of this environnement, the eyes of the Ashen Ones became fixated on the battle itself.

It was two against one. Two of the warring Hollows were adorned in the style of their dead brethren. True chevaliers of Lothric. As for the third, he was antagonistic to the former. It was wearing blue colors that opposed the kingdom's red. The shape at the top of its helmet and the placements of a cloth on the shoulders were similar to its enemies. They shared the same roots. Then, while the two red-bearers presented swords and shields, the protagonist only had a humongous halberd with a blade wider than a guillotine's. Most noticeably however, was the new enemy's figure. Bulbous. Extremely fat. Its plated armor was outstandingly larger than a barrel, greatly more wide than even those worn by knights of Catarina. As a last detail, a pair of small white wings were affixed on the back.

The battle was fierce between the duo and the lone executioner. Most of their blows kept being parried by the abnormally quick reflexes of the halberd wielder. Then, an opening came when one of the Lothric Knights tripped in a large ditch, near the building's wall. The winged warrior used this brief period to take a step back and flex its muscles. It suddenly swept its foe with a large spinning motion that wouldn't seem to stop. The first knight blocked two of the strong attacks until it broke its stance and was cleanly cut in two. The second, who had bent its knees, escaped a similar fate. Unbiased by a partner's death, the chevalier lunged his sturdy steel into the Large enemy, as it had stopped turning. The blow pierced the side of its belly. Retaliation came directly with the back of a hand striking his helmet. The Lothric Knight wavered, the helm's metal was bent inward, inferring that the jaw had been struck. The blue warrior had retaken its fighting position. The two handed polearm sliced the neck once, then twice. A head rolled away from its meaty pedestal. And a headless fighter fell to the earth for good.

A small bit of blood spurted from underneath the victor. The cleaved top half of the first fallen Hollow was still itching for a fight. It had damaged the large knight's ankle with the broad of its sword. There wasn't much of an effect on the towering Undead. Without a shred of pause, the great paladin crushed the helmed skull under its massive foot. At last, they had joined their brothers in their headlessness. With his targets neutralized the last man standing pulled the remains of its victim into position. Even going so far as putting the parts he had cleaved together again. With this strange task complete, it slowly walked away. The weight of his arsenal produced the noises of clinking metal and rumbling stone as it took each step. It resumed a patrol around the stone circle, prepared to lash out at any who'd come before him. Such was the routine of an accursed Hollow. Up above, the spectators were at a loss for words.

"By the Lords... This is..." said Pavel hesitantly. Had he a decent cause for concern here?

"No, yeah, alright. That one's a bit scary." admitted Alrof.

Gyron stroke his grey beard to calm his ancient nerves. "If the Lothric Knights eat Drakes for breakfast, then what did that fellow eat exactly ?"

"Erm... A giant ?" proposed the cleric.

"Two, judging from the shape of his belly." suggested Aroth.

A sinister laugh came from a grinning assassin. "Fuhuhuhu. Not bad, not bad. Well, we've got two less to worry about. What are these"

The man had always shown love for mockery. As long as it kept him calm, the commander would keep the japes coming.

"Commander? Any idea about this guy? Is there more of him or is he a big hero or something?" wondered Alrof.

"I believe our survivor is a Winged Knight. And no, he won't be the last we see..." Aroth recited his knowledge the way one reads from a book. "He and his order obey the angels mentioned by Lady Gertrude. They oppose the Three Pillars of Lothric and have turned their backs on the rightful King Lothric... The specifics... are hard to grasp."

"Gertrude." repeated Osadin who had a good memory and quick mind. "You said that the Hollows on the Wall were following her teachings."

Aroth pointed at the dead supplicants with his longsword "Indeed. _Those_ kinds of Hollows, all praying towards _that_ big building. And... Hmm..." Aroth grabbed his head mechanically, trying to find out more. But nothing came. "As I said, the specifics are hard to grasp."

Lady Aveny placed her hands on the knight's arm: "But you have recovered many details already. That is good! The next souls you absorb might restore them completely."

The kindness was appreciated: "I pray so."

"Anyone else want to share a bit of memories?" said Amon.

None felt particularly different, for now. The knight of Astora wasn't reassured by this progress. As if something dreadful was hiding within the missing memories. the worst was how he couldn't even feel how some were absent. Everything so far had felt much too conspicuous for his taste. As if some unknown entity was gifting them those scraps of remembrance on purpose. Alrof paced around, impatient.

"I cannot yet tell if I was ever truly here... Tis quite the irritant."

"Yeah yeah, we know." said Alrof absentmindedly. "None of us know if we know what we know for sure. Whatever that means... But how about we stop admiring the view of the mind and get to the..?"

Aroth interrupted his speech when the sound of steel piercing flesh was heard. A a little bit of blood had spread. The Ashen Tens looked at the wooden bolt stuck on the armored left shoulder of Alrof the Ardent. After a small moment had passed, the great warrior expressed how he felt about this injury:

"Ow... Rude..." he said coldly.

No need for a full alarm. Alrof upsettingly backed away from the ledge like someone avoids a path full of leeches. He pulled the wooden bolt out of his muscles without so much a twitch. He let the projectile fall into the plaza below, where it bounced on the head of the Winged Knight. Things looked calm so far. Everyone had stayed silent to observe the man's actions, even Kieran who tried to keep his comments for himself. A vein popping on the sinewy forehead revealed the truth, Alrof wasn't calm at all, but boiling hot in anger. The surprise attack had ticked him off: "That little worm... Can we finish a discussion without those idiots attacking from everywhere ?" he said behind gritted teeth.

Kieran gave a quick glance at the attack's point of origin. below the building and crouched near a second one, a lone Hollow endowed with a crossbow was reloading his weapon in a learned movement. "There's just the one though. Attacking from just a where, not every."

The big man, muttering inaudible curses, wasn't in the mood for joke. His Greataxe dubbed Infallible entered his arms and was placed on his damaged shoulder-pad. A bit of stretching achieved his preparations. On the other hand, Gyron sought to end the threat immediately. The old man pulled out his wooden staff and tried to talk the bruiser down.

"My young lad, le..."

But the strong voice of Alrof got in the way of the wrinkled one's: "Move old man. I need room..." he cautionned. The aged master stared confusedly at the strong-man whose gaze was still fixed in the crossbowman's direction. Apparently, the latter would soon be more than dead. Gyron retreated, as did some of the others. The strongest of the party took a few steps back and gripped his greataxe tightly. Now at a perfect distance for a sprint, his aim had become obvious.

The commanding warrior waved his hand in warning. He wasn't so sure about this: "Umh... I think you should reconsider this. It might be..." Too late. With the momentum he had gathered, Alrof couldn't stop and wouldn't stop. He jumped a mighty distance from the rooftop before Aroth could say his eighth and ninth words. "...a trap."

"FARAAAAAM!" was the flying man's warcry. , the targeted bowman below didn't quite change his behavior. After all, a being with no soul would know nothing of fear, only the memory of it. And so it neutrally loosed a prepared bolt at the falling giant. In mid-air, Alrof placed his greataxe as a shield. Alrof might be Ardent, but he was no fool. The third bolt bounced off on the large slab of steel like a fallen pebble bouncing off a mountain-top. Then, the same slab crushed its target. The Hollow's head had become plunged into its thorax, similarly to a turtle hiding away in its shell. Comical and quite satisfying. A certain Unkindled certainly appreciated the result.

Our victorious axeman looked away from the crushed corpse, and realised he hadn't won the war. In the shade of the second building beyond his friend's field of view, a dozen enemies were now aiming their own bolts at the man. Perhaps he was a bit of a fool after all. "Oh... Seriously ?". The first volley flew his way. He crouched in order to let his greataxe bear the brunt of the attacks. While a rain of steel poured onto him, he called out to the group with a hint of worry : "A little hand here ?"

The situation had become clear for the nine companions. Given the number of projectiles, the threat to the lone warrior was high. Aroth, without panic nor hesitation, gave out a clear voice:

"Pavel, to me. Carra, and thief, place yourselves at our backs. The others protect the rear with Amon."

The command was executed without an itch. After reaching their comrade below, Pavel and the knight presented their steel plate alongside the greataxe, forming a semi-effective wall against the perpetual bombardment. As they suspected, there were a lot of Hollow crossbowmans, about fifteen of them. The firing squad was tighly bound in a short walkway. A small stone building had kept them hidden until now. Their formation was in the shape of a pyramid and allowed a continuous wave a reloading and firing. ONe mistep, and any attacker would receive a fatal wound if lacking in armor. Aroth and Pavel had no such weakness. Furthermore, the Hollow's compact formation rendered them extremely vulnerable to explosives. Using the cover formed by the three frontliners, the Bloomseer and the Withdrawn easily turned the platoon to ashes with pyromancies and firebombs.

Behind their backs, the story hadn't been so simple. Amon, the first to touch ground, pulled out his sword and ordered the others to brace for battle. There was an entrance to the construction they had fought above of, and it wasn't empty. Surely enough, before the last Ashen One had reached the lower level, a Lothric Knight armed with a spear exited the building in a rush. Without waiting, it tried to pierce through the Ruthless assassin's guts. The blow was avoided with grace and a swift slice under the armpit forced the Undead back. It retreated not due to pain, but from remnants of human training. The fight would have been long one, had a flying swordsman not shoved a long blade into its body. The Swift Osadin, who had remained on the roof, had found a gap between the shoulder and neck. The rest of the rear guardians made short work of the wounded target. In mere instants, the battle on two fronts had been resolved without too much damage.

"That's that... Is Alrof alright?" asked Amon with kindness.

Aveny was quick to propose her holy service, but the big man refused the assistance.

"I'm good, thanks. Pfff... Always hated how Hollows never run out of ammunition." complained the axeman as he took a golden phial to his mouth.

Gyron rubbed his hands calmly, tasting his next words.

"Mmh mmh. I wrote a book about it I believe. Basically, it has to do with what I call the Appropriation of..."

A long explanation was coming, this would not do... Aroth reacted on grabbed the sorcerer's shoulder on instinct, stopping him in his track.

"Later, please, Master..." begged the knight.

The old man stood down, a bit saddened from this missed opportunity. But he did make a mental note. Once they return to the Shrine, he'd make sure to lecture at least one of the younguns. Volke was a very good listener for example. Carra asked for their next plan of action.

"Can we just rush da big guy now?"

"I have no doubt in our abilities, but I think we'd better ambush it." Amon pointed towards a large ledge, looking "There is a balcony over there. It could be connected to the building we were on moments ago. A perfect place to encircle our target"

"Why do we need ta bother? It's not like we'll die."

"True. However, tis impossible to know how many rebirths one has left, no matter how driven. Caution should remain our priority. But I see another point to this strategy. In this battle, we shall work as one, to deepen our bonds and perfect our martial craft." explained Aroth.

Amon added "Consider this preparation against greater threats."

Osadin nodded: "Not to mention we fell into enough traps as it is."

There were no objection. Aroth would choose who shall accompany whom:

"Pavel, Gyron, your weapons aren't suited for skirmishes within a building. Thus, shall you head down with Amon and Alrof. Aveny, Osadin, and Volke, to me. As for you, Ser Kieran, your skills as an assassin will be invaluable below."

Ser assassin slowly clapped his hands twice. "Compliments. I like those.""

The last warrior to address was relaxing against a wall, playing with the fire in her hands:

"Carra. You are... polyvalent. As long as you keep your fire in check where wood is in abundance, you may go either way. Decide whom you would rather follow. Me in the building, or Amon outside. The numbers do not really matter."

She took half a moment to think it through: "I'm with ya."

Aroth was not surprised. There were no complaints of any kind to his ruling, though the plan wasn't full-proof. The educated Amon elected to give further counsels: "Once we see each other on both sides of the plaza, readied and waving, we'll match our breaths and launch our assault. Be sure to discuss your actions preemptively. Oh, and do beware the unmoving armors until further notice. You never know when they might rise again and stab you in the back, even without a head."

"Speakin' from experience?" wondered Carra

"Always my dear." replied Amon. And to his brother he gave another piece of advice. "Your Lordship, do give us a shout if you find trouble. We shall remain above for a time."

"Agreed..." concurred Aroth behind his helmet.

The first group of five, composed of a knight, a cleric, a thief, a mercenary and a pyromancer, entered the premises of the building. A few Hollows were resting The lancer that had attacked them apparently must have come from further in.

"Those must be the Wall Milicia's quarters. How many more are left inside ?"

"It matters not. There will be fewer of them after our passage."

"Fair enough. Time to shrink the numbers."

Osadin, Volke, and Aveny made short work of the hollows still resting on the tables. The Zealous Aveny prayed for the poor souls each time she crushed a skull. There were two openings they could venture into now. One, close to the entrance, led to the kitchen and the noise of Hollows could be heard. A similar atmosphere could be heard in the other passage that had two more crossings. Before they chose where to go, the commander wondered if a Hollow could be waiting to stab their backs.

"May I ? Kieran told me of a certain technique to draw out dead people."

"Did he now? Does it involve a tool of any kind?"

"Not really. It might not work, but I think it'd be fun."

"... Go ahead then." accepted the uncertain Arklaw.

Osadin made a trumpet of his hands and shouted his prepared taunt:

"Excuse me ? We're merchants of death, special offer! First Hollow to show up will benefit from free delivery and service! Come and take a gander!"

"Very... typical."

"I met many merchants."

As they stood among the dust and ashes accumulated during centuries and waited for spirits to rise against them, silence was their only answer.

"I doubted this would work..." said the leader. "Hollows do not always rely on sound. After all, we made quit the ruckus alrea..."

As if to prove the Arklaw wrong, two dead soldier came out of a nearby room with heavy steps. They headed towards the group with a raised sword just like their kind did time and time again.

"Huh... Our first customers." jested a happily surprised Arklaw.

"Kieran ain't here ya know. No need ta keep jokin'." commented Carra lazily.

Aroth stepped forward tiredly: "Right you are."

The first Hollow lunged at him as could be expected. It was flailing more than actually striking. An iron shield produced a deflection, and the attacker stumbled to the defender's right. The distance was too close to the young knight's sword to counter attack. But with an expert's reaction, Aroth removed his shield and turned his sword around. He clenched his armored hands on both the guard and the blade. He brutally sent its full weight to the unguarded jugular, as if pushing an oar. Half of his iron penetrated dead flesh The deadly wound put an end to the new client, procuring payment in black blood. As for the second enemy, it had been burned to a second death as soon as he moved away from the tables. Carra had heeded the knight's advice.

One of the dead soldiers had the deceny to offer loot. Carra retrieved an iron helm the likes of which local militiamen were wearing. Seeing Volke's free head, she offered the added protection.

"Here ya go." she said.

Volke took it from her hand, then looked thoughtful for a second.

"... I have a hood..."

"Oh yeah... BUt, why ain't ya wearin' it then?"

"... ... ... Forgot..."

Volke was about to put on his new gear when Carra tutted.

"Tut-tut. Ya know what? Don'tcha wear anythin'. This stuff hides yer pretty mug."

Osadin smiled: "Miss Carra, you're quite devoted to the ways of beauty."

"Shaddup." she replied

Having cleaned up his steel, Aroth encouraged their next move be made at once:

"If you're quite finished, you might want check the kitchen. Do be careful. Me and Osadin shall watch for new clien... for new arrivals."

They all agreed and took their assignments somewhat seriously. The two men observed the entrances in silence. Then came the sounds of broken furnitures, death rattles and fiery outbursts. Things were happening without them but there wasn't cause for concern. The easterling, satisfied, indulged himself in conversation:

"Good to see Carra doesn't hate everyone anymore. It feels like it was only yesterday when she kicked your ballsack and tried to kill you. Or was it a few hours ago? It's hard to tell... Wait"

"You love conversing." simply answered the astoran survivor.

Osadin agreed: "That I certainly do. My family on the other hand... not so much. I mean, you saw my brother. So cold, _sigh_ , even after all that time passed."

"Families are complicated..."

"I suppose you know that better than most... A serial murderer as a brother. A very, very troubling story. Though nowadays he acts a lot friendlier than that story suggested."

Aroth shook his ironed head, there was anger in his voice: "What is it that you infer? Virtue, does not forgive his past crimes. Do you need me to repeat his deeds?"

"Perhaps later. My apologies, Ser."

"Follow his directives only if they come from me... Remember that well."

Osadin would keep that in mind, though not for the reasons Aroth would hope for. The silence took over. Moments later, from the echoes of the stone, they heard a girlish voice with a strong accent. It wasn't Aveny's, that was certain.

"In a friggin' jar? Yuck... Ya better be packed."

A corpse in a pot had been found apparently. Picturing this image brought shudders of disgust on both their backs. But such things had happened in their long experience as Undead warriors. Some treasures were sometimes hidden thus by hoarders. They protected their findings in order to help cursed warriors in their quests. Sometimes, trinkets had become bond to a corpse's inventory, and some efforts were necessary to move them into the way of possible Chosen Undead. In the end, it was an appreciated assistance, as unsavory as it seemed. It was then that Osadin realized what had happened during the selection.

"Ah, of course. She probably wanted the treasures from this building."

The knight returned the whisper from his echoing helm. "Obviously."

"Of course, you knew. That's why you left her for last, quick thinking on your part."

"Do you disapprove?" asked the knightly man.

"No no, not at all. I... appreciate how you're handling things. You were a commander after all."

The man's chest swelled with pride: "Indeed. Commander of armies, and Arklaw of Carim forevermore. This too you would do well to remember."

"Right, yes. I still think it's a strange title, but alright."

The Arklaw ignored that last comment. But the Swift warrior was correct. By gifting Carra with a false choice, Aroth had made her more amenable. Her latest display of generosity was proof. The duo continued conversing while remaining vigilant. Shortly after, two of the scouting Unkindled returned. Volke appeared first to report their findings:

"Titanite, bombs, talismans... Not much..."

"It will suffice. Where's Carra?"

Aveny explained: "She will join us. She... uhm... she thinks she can climb her way to another room."

"Did she now? Well, let us hope she finds what she is looking for."

Our commanding warrior considered she would take care of herself. They moved on without a second thought. A few metres after the cantina, they had arrived on a passageway that overlooked a large room. In here were an abundance of crates and barrels, as well as guards to defend them. This was the storeroom for the entire milicia, of that there were no doubts. Too bad cursed Undead can't touch those things directly. Giant Hollows and some mangy dogs patrolled around in a daze.

"Get down. Do not attract attention."

Before assaulting this ripe location, they elected to stealthily finish each corners of the building. It took them a while to avoid and/or silently dispose of enemies, but they managed it well and secured a magnificent sword in the process. The blade was of Astoran craft, and no one opposed Aroth's acquirement of it. They avoided the large area, but did get close enough to get rid of a bombarding Hollow that might have troubled them otherwise. Their exploratory process had taken a small moment. The only place left to visit was the storeroom itself, and its guardians were still present. Carra had yet to return, so they waited here for her.

"What's that?" declared Osadin suddenly.

Something came up at the bottom floor, from behind a doorway to the outside. Something new and intrusive. Something like a head, with a seemingly golden top. It was peeking inside the storeroom and appreciatting its security.

"Is that Carra?" whispered the cleric.

"No, Carra's green-haired." replied Osadin.

The little silhouette paused, which made it clear she knew she had been spotted. The five warriors hurriedly approached so they may get a closer look. The Ashen Ones could see how young the silhouette was. It was a girl that hadn't fully adopted adulthood. She was dressed in torn rags. Her face, full of fear, was covered in small gashes. But she was unmistakably human in appearance.

In a panic from those spying eyes, the girl decided to escape. She produced a small glwing skull in her tremblings hands and threw it in the furthest reaches of the room. It broke down on some wooden and made a mysterious sound. The blue fume that resulted had the ingenious effect of attracting the Undead. They walked away from the girl who didn't miss this chance to run away and disappearing outside. She had left the Undead with many questions.

"If my sense of orientation is good, I think he headed towards the plaza. It was a she, right?"

"Yes... Girl..." hopeful

Aveny exulted in joy and lifted her hands to the skies with great energy.

"A survivor, praise be to the Sun! Hope lives in Lothric!"

Aroth emitted a sigh in opposition : "Or, tis simply another scavenger from some gullet. Possibly a friend of this 'Greirat' we saw jailed beneath the Wall. Do not let your guard down."

"Ser Aroth. Do not be so glum. Hope lives in Lothric! We could... Hmm?"

Another woman interrupted her by noisily sprinting into the platform. Carra had returned, sooner than expected.

"Ah'm back. What'd ah miss?" said Carra.

"A living person." explained Osadin. "She ran away when we spotted them."

"Woah... Seriously?"

Aroth wanted them to advance now. The Hollows had stopped being distracted and were now converging to the stairs leading to the group. "Let us clean the surroundings." he ordered: "Then we will see to this urchin."

The young knight didn't show much joy towards someone they barely even met. Perhaps the journey was tingling the nerves of the man in steel. But the rest was truth enough: they were to destroy the enemy, seek treasures, reach the girl, and not let their friends wait for too long.

-~o~-

Mere moments after the first group had entered the headquarters, the one led by Amon of Carim had focused on observations for the coming battle. Among them was the uncalm Pavel. He tried to keep a serious visage throughout this adventure0 But everyting was conspiring against his nature. He was beginning to miss hiss his boring watches at the Bishop's monastery. Now, he had more distasteful tasks. A cadaver had been found, ripe for pilfer. He had reached into it and acquired... blackened shapes. Urns of explosives to be precise. Uncertain as to their nature, he brought them to Kieran and questioned him:

"Is this a good bomb ? I cannot say for certain..."

"Ah... The nose knows, your Whiteness. Let me have a sniff." Pavel gave a sample of his findings. The master of tricks tickled the thin cloth of the black urn and let the scent reach his nostrils. "Hmm... That's some good black powder, with a pinch of phosphorus for a nasty aftertaste. This is the smell of brutal death. It almost smells like the ones Volke makes. Good find, lovebird..."

The herald's eyebrows lifted themselves to show his worry.

"Hum... Don't mention this please. I cannot really seek love, I am already... engaged to our quest?" The former Finger reacted to the pun a nasty smirk.

"Nice try for a stuck-up cloister guard. But sure, I'll change the subject. Fuhuhuhu..." Kieran jungled with the bomb like a true artist. "I can't wait to shove one of these in this fatso's guts."

To which the wise guardian replied immediately: "Would there not be a bit of shrapnell and... _cough..._ blood bursting forth as a result?"

Kieran mouth took the shape of a bridge from this epiphany. He concurred: "Good point. Stabbing is good enough." This ended their talk.

So far, every interactions with Kieran had been ominous at best, horrifying at worst. But some had become quite acquainted with him. Volke was the greatest match for him for instance. Their bond seemed to grow with each passing hour. The more innocent of the three, Pavel, tried not to picture any of the things they had said, in vain. Here and then, they heard the sound of Osadin's voice calling. Something about merchandising death.

"Ah!" clamored the killer "What a fool... That technique never works."

Anyhow, Amon and Alrof chose this moment to return from a reconnaissance raid on ground level. There was blood on Amon's chest, but it was obviously not his own. He came towards the ancient sorcerer, Gyron, who was resting over a wooden barrel. And silently, for once.

"Master, is the monster within your reach from this high ground ?" he asked.

The old sorcerer opened his eyes: "Well... not exactly. I tried it as soon as you left, to no success. Maybe if I was on the wooden roof right below, I might provide support. But I still haven't found a Fall Control page and I'd like my legs to remain intact. Bah... The old wood is likely to snap anyway."

Kieran joined the conversation: "Want me to test that theory?

"Umh?"

"Testing the stall's roof. That one here?" insisted the assassin.

"Fatty's back is turned sometimes. I can use that and return here."

"And the height? You love feeling pain as well as inflicting it?"

"Watch and learn, wizard."

The dreadful man searched for an item within his soul. He made it appear in his hand. It was a wooden stick. No, a staff. A standard sorcery staff of Vinheim. Exactly similar to Gyron's. But the real surprise occurred afterwards. While the ability to chant sorcery wasn't that impressive in itself, it was the spell he casted that completely baffled the Learned elder. Kieran's feet were now glowing with a bluish aura and a soothing sound emanated from them. Kieran proudly stomped hard on the ground. No sound came forth from that action.

"W-w-w-what is that s-spell?" stuttered Gyron with wide eyes.

"Fuhuhuhu... It is called Spook, old man. Are you jealous?"

"By the gods... BY THE GODS! This is Hush a-and Fall Control a-at once!

This was becoming worrysome, the sorcerer wa advancing towards Kieran in a drunken state, and even him was taken aback:"Er... I don't..."

"FOOL!" screamed the addicted scholar.

He violently grabbed the killer by his coat. In his grey eyes one could see frenzied want. "You knew sorceries and you didn't even mention it to me?! Don't you know the worth of it?! Show me the page! Right now!"

"No way! Get your paws off of..."

With unexpected force, the professional murderer was shaken back and forth like a ragdoll. "WoAoAAhOooh! CaAalm doWn yoU old fOx!". It was as if Gyron was a raging steed and Kieran was the unfortunate rider: "SoMEone He-alp!" begged the victim. But Gyron was lost in his greed and didn't even focus on his the clarity of his words anymore.

"Howmuchconcentrationdoesittake? Isthecastingtimedoubletheoriginal's? _wheeze_ Oh please! Teach it to me! Right now! Right now I said!"

The Steadfast Pavel and the worried Amon took the matter seriously. They came to pull the old man away. The situation was similar to removing an old cat away from its favorite spot; harder than could be expected. They tried to, but couldn't make him release the trapped fiend. Strong problems require strong solutions. Alrof gave the man a slap to put him in his place. He had restrained himself, of course, otherwise the old man would have been sent flying. Gyron placed a hand on his cheek on instinct:

"Who dares stop a Master of Vinheim!" he bellowed.

Alrof's voice was once again more powerful and grave: "Are you for real? You want the sorcery, you're gonna have to act nice."

Thankfully, when Gyron saw he was among friends, he breathed in and out and calmed himself. He fully let go of Kieran's collar. There was a moment of silence during wich he let the young men delicately push him away from the edge and the red-eyed killer. He pacifically showed that he had returned to his former self.

"Apologies." he began. "I get, well... Very excited whenever I see a new type of sorcery. I know, erm.. I knew all of the magic in existance, but I never expected to see such a refinement of old techniques... Young man. I am so very, very sorry. But can I see the page, please?"

Kieran had brushed of his leather suit and placed his semi-long hair back on top of his decent blue eye. Now, his red one looked angrily at his violent friend.

"Sodding hell... I'm no teacher, so I obviously can't help you. I only got the one page, and it's bound to me now."

The old searcher sighed longly and walked away, muttering his despair.

"Aaah... We need to find mage, soon..."

Amon approached Kieran who had lost his sadistic smirk.

"Are you alright Ser Kieran?"

"Just contemplating how weak my body is compared to my glory days. Can't even get away from an old man's grip. I can still battle like a devil, but this one hurt bad."

"Don't feel bad. I suppose he did as Carra did and improved his physicality. But do tell; where did you acquire this sorcery? And the staff? Tis the first time I saw either."

"I had them on me when I left my coffin. Don't you tell the others; I don't like to reveal my cards before I play."

"You seemed awfully familiar with its use." observed Pavel.

Kieran explained with his hands freely moving to suit the tale: "Sorcery is pretty common among Rosaria's Fingers. We got some former Vinheim scholars who grew bored of following orders. So, with them and with Leonhard as our very own nobleman, the Fingers are very educated as a whole. Well... If you ignore some of the hot-blooded fools."

It was time to for them to move on, since their comrades others might have reached the balcony already.

"Let us hurry to our position. To the lower level." proposed Amon. And without a second guess, that is what was done. Gyron came along, since remaining here had no more value. They took the ladder next to the firing squadron's charred remains, and one by one they descended. Some were faster than the other. Gyron and Pavel weren't as reckless as the other which slightly frustrated those that waited on them. But they all reached the bottom without issue. A bottom shaped in a half circle of stones, an outreach next to which a gaping void awaited them. The ravine beyond the safety barriers was so deep that no light could reach the bottom.

"So... The city did rise above the mountains. Just like legendary Anor Londo."

The sorcerer couldn't agree more: "Indeed. What used to be regular earth is now leagues below us while the constructions have soared like a bird. Careful no to fall."

"I urge you to be more careful of enemies, Master." said Amon.

On the ground, the body of a simple Hollow soldiers and of decapitated knights were scattered.

"The soldiers waited for us, hanging from the barrier like ripe fruits. As for the armors, they can't rise. They're empty." explained Alrof.

"Intriguing..." contemplated Gyron.

"Sure it is... What about this one?" wondered Kieran.

The body of a Winged Knight was in the corner of the arc. Its body was riddled with broken weapons and its arm laid extended in the empty air, over a long halberd. The halberd couldn't be equipped, since all present were cursed with Undeath. Amon shrugged:

"It was already dead, as you can see."

"Hmm... That one is a bit shorter, but that proves they can be killed." conjectured Pavel.

"Fuhuhu..." cackled Kieran. "Look at him, pinned down while reaching for his weapon like you reach for a piece of meat. Fuheheheheee..."

NOthing else of value was here apart from this inspirational corpse. There was, however, a tunnel that led to the Winged Soldier's plaza.

"Gentlemen? Let us please turn our focus towards our prey." called Amon as he stepped into it.

The five friends hurried along. As they could see, the big one was still around. It still walked around the statue like a good soldier in an endless war. The five of them took place next to their temporary leader. There was movement in the plaza. Something had come out from the building where Aroth and the others were expected.

"Is it them ?" asked Pavel.

The being in question was too far away to be certain. BUt it was definitely not one of the Unkindled. Amon stroke his chin and kept his head down. "This shape. Mmh..."

The strange newcomer carefully let itself fall on the lower level, among the iron legion of headless knights. But, it was also and right in the reach of a sleeping Hollow. It arose suddenly to strike down the disturbance. A first sword strike took the intruder b surprise, but only produced a fall backwards. Now that the mysterious shape was closer, the figure hidden behind the ragged cloth was clear. It was a girl, a human girl. Alrof and Pavel were getting back on their feet, eager to help. But Amon calmed them down. Now wasn't the time.

The new arrival was looking back and forth between the new threat and the colossal executioner. She kicked the soldier away and ran off while forcing herself close to the nearest wall. Thankfully for her, the giant knight still didn't notice her as he was on the opposite side of the statue. After a short walk, the young vagrant opened a wooden door, that until then looked to be barricaded. That was the last they saw of the little one.

The five ambushers tried to ascertain what they had seen. Gyron certainly was fascinated by the situation. Kieran stroke his chin, pondering about the girl's performance. Amon was perplexed. Pavel was gripping his wooden shaft anxiously; letting innocents in danger was not a good action in his holy book. As for Alrof... He was gone.

"What in the world?" whispered Pavel who only just noticed this absence.

"There, to the left. When did he..?" said Amon. They saw the bearded man keeping near the walls, hiding from the patroller's watch. Quite the stealthy adventurer despite his usual ways.

"Does he ever learn?" said Kieran who was prepared to go after him.

Amon discouraged the action. "Do not blame him so much. He does what he feels is right. I say we support him."

The man among men had arrived below the balcony to the far edge of the square. Next to him was the Hollow the young girl had gotten past. It was still flat on the ground, daydreaming about nothingness. When Alrof got close enough, he snapped the thin neck and ended its daze for good.

"I guess he can stay here." commented Pavel. "He is in a fine position, able to convey our will to our friends once they arrive."

A few moments passed, and the other group still wouldn't come. Man does not live on silence alone.

"Ser Amon?" asked the herald.

"Ser Pavel." replied the man.

"Have you really... Did you really kill so many innocent people? And your Father as well?"

The answer came plainly. "I am what I am."

"Do you regret yours actions?"

"There are many acts that I regret, tis true. But they led me this far. I take solace in the role I was given for the events to come."

"So... you do you not fear the Wrath of the Gods?"

The noble of Carim pondered a moment. He closed his left eye as he gave a thought-out answer: "Let me put it this way; would a murderer of women and children make it this far without the blessing of greater forces? As a man of faith, what do you think?"

Pavel try to look into. He didn't know what to think about it. Had the Gods smiled to this man? Whenever he looked at him, he saw a gentle smile, a kind heart and a noble. At least when his brother wasn't around. Were those facsimiles? Tricks to appeal favor from the other Unkindled? He simply couldn't say for sure. But then, something tickled his brain. A wasn't Kieran was the one who could put it into words.

"Say, O Naked One." he started "You never did say you killed those people."

This surprised Amon. "Did I not?"

"No." affirmed Alrof who had returned out of boredom, and taken a sudden interest in the story. The same went with the Old Gyron who kept his ears to their conversation.

Amon offered a sad smile to his questioners: "I am a murderer, a kinslayer, a Lawless beast. This I cannot reject. Isn't that enough?".

"No..."

"Let me retell you my story, then. My father, Count Arold of Carim was... A wise man. He knew how to solve problems before they even occurred. _"Always stay one step ahead"_ was the lesson he taught us, my brothers and I. We lived by those words. Always. We still do, as far as I can tell. And so, one fateful day, like Aroth said, the first victim of the Undead Curse made its way into our realm. But my father, oh, he did not see it as something to be feared. All we needed to do was to learn from it, to contain and exploit it in order to keep our people safe. He gave us... quests, to fulfill. Arstor and Aroth were quick study, but I, well..." Amon pointed at the black markings over his eyes. A amalgam of ligns and complex symbols. They stood out among his pure white skin and grey eyes. "I have only this as a reminder of my failure." And the story ended here. But this here was not close enough to the truth.

"And?" Inquired Pavel.

"And what?"

"You're being obscure about some of the details. Ser Aroth already shared your story." explained the halberdier, "And I fear you strayed from the point and have not answered the question."

"Have I not?" claimed Amon, who couldn't appear more dumb-founded.

Kieran had lost all patience: "Alright then, keep your secrets...Not like I want to learn how you killed dozens of people without getting caught. You know, simple professional curiosity."

"Right... Curiosity..." commented a skeptical Pavel.

"Well, you have my apologies. I am unable to say more, for now. But Aroth speaks for me, and you can see it to him. Now where are they?" said the noble Undead. He would share nothing else. His comrades, disappointed, could only concentrate on the task at hand. The group remained still and observant. Alrof returned to his spot, using a pathway slightly beneath the Hollow's gaze. He became used to reaching the balcony and return before any Hollow could tell. He might very well relay messages once the time came.

The time came after a long silent while. The five expectants shared a sigh. Finally, their lost companions appeared from within the building. And none the worth for wear apparently. They came closer to the plaza, searching for their comrades. The axeman was the first they noticed. They discreetly joined him posthaste and formed a line ready to surge on command. Aroth at their center, raised his arm. He waved it towards the great knight, then extended five fingers. The message was clear, the assault would soon begin. The other four Unkindled, still hidden under the archway, braced themselves for a sprint. All of the Ashen had their weapons at the ready.

Two fingers were left now...

One...

The Ashen Ten moved upon their tubby foe. At this very time, the power they displayed before the Prince's effigy would become a model, an ideal, one they'd thrive to recreate throughout their quest.


	18. Reunions and Oppositions

Silence reigned in the lower parts of Lothric for a short moment. Battered and broken, a once unyielding defender let go of its massive polearm. The steely shaft bounced off the ground with great echoes. It was followed soon by heavy knees that couldn't maintain their balance anymore. Finally, the Winged Knight let itself fully collapse forward like a giant tree. The cape on its back had been caked in blood and fat and his armor was smeared with the impacts of fire, blades and sorceries. This great enemy dissipated into myriad ashes, as the Curse of Undeath would have it.

The Ashen Ten were victorious this hour, but had grown tired in exchange. One or two let themselves fall to the ground, their limbs still reeling from the Winged Knight's heavy blows. A girl went to tend their injuries. A young hooded man used the opportunity to scavenge the area, as well as execute potentially half-sleeping corpses. An old wizard studied the remains of headless knights, pondering while he drank the blue broth of his flask. Yet another man sat on the stone circle placed around the statue of a cloacked figure. That fellow confidently pulled back the bloodied black hair that had covered the left side of his face, revealing a glowing red eye under a nasty scar.

"Ah~ that was fun." he chirped as he wiped the blood off his long curved blade. "Kehehe, for a moment I thought that spinning lardass was gonna flap those tiny wings and fly away." This proud rogue had always shown appreciation for shaded humor and gruesome fighting. A view that most of his party tolerated, but not all. A halberdier standing on his right planted his long haft in the pavement to catch his attention, and succeeded. Pavel frowned and shook his head at his comrade's vulgarity: "Such language... It was once a reasonable being, you could show some respect." And it was true that Hollowing had striped all reason from the defeated being, as it did most of the inhabitants of Lothric. Who could say what manner of person they had just battled against?

But against that sound reasonning, Kieran chuckled: "Aw what's the matter Monk-keeper? Did he remind you of your godly wards?" he said, judging his friend's social cercles from the memories of past targets. But despite his expectations, the herald was deeply puzzled by the statement: "Come again? No follower of the Way was ever that corpulent." The truth could be felt in the statement and the tilted expression. The cliche had been lost on this warrior from another age. Looking to the side, the assassin sighed. "... Other times other diets I suppose." But the man wasn't one to back away from an argument, no matter how shallow: "For the record, clerics nowadays are either pigs or sadists. Try not to reveal your... heh... _sacred_ profession around strangers."

Pavel wasn't sure how to take this advice, but the grin gave him a clue: "Master Assassin, my friend, it would behoove you stop antagonising everyone like you do." advised our honest fellow. To which, again, the assassin responded: "Come now, it's all in good fun! I'm not harming anyone, unlike some people..." he replied while spying on the implied party that stood just a few steps away. And so, a green-haired girl took offense for a vein popped on her neck: "Yeah yeah, ah did a scabby act then y'all made me feel bad about it. Thanks fer da remindin'. Now do what Whitey says an' mind yer blabberin'!"

The situation wasn't getting anywhere good. The heart of the group, Lady Aveny, decided to interfere with a bright smile: "Now now my friends, let us remove those frowns and rejoice instead. Didn't we work well together? This poor warrior, may it find respite, was barely a challenge. We definitely improved compared to our fight against the Iudex. Give thanks to the Sun for granting his wisdom in our time of needs."

"Of course it wasn't a challenge... Ten against one isn't very fair." declared Alrof of Forossa behind them. The big man was busy relocating his dislocated right shoulder, yet the painful process didn't prevent him from joining the exchange: "Ow... Back in the days with my Company, each of us would take one monster each. Real warriors honoring the glory of Faraam. And now it's just... Well... Er..." _Pak._ Just as the bone was set back in place, his friends' silent glares pierced his heart. Alrof massaged his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Ahehem... No offense people, I'm not saying we fought wrong or that I don't like adventuring with you. I just... I'm looking forward to when we don't have to... I mean NEED, to stick together for every fight, because we'll all be strong, you know?"

From the beginning Alrof took the spot the goofy strongman of the group. And while he had trouble finding the right words at time, his heart was pure and true, that much was certain."No offense taken friend." assured Aroth of Astora, who was the first to meet him when they awoke in the Cemetary of Ash. "We understand your frustration, and you make a fair point. Once the way to the Lords is secured, we will satiate ourselves with well-earned souls." Alrof placed his iron helmet in a better position, as if trying to shake off his unease. He cheered nervously: "Yeah! That's what I was thinking. See? We barely met and we're all getting along. Erm... Mostly..." That was quite enough on the subject. Carra stretched her legs as she urged the group forward. "Oh sure, good talk scruffy. Now howsabout we check that survivor every'un saw but me?"

That matter was of importance. Information the Ashen Ten had gathered was scarce, and the few people the group had met had been either clueless or cryptic on the subject. They knew were to go, but not what or who awaited them. So, if there really were citizens left in Lothric City, it could shed light on the path they treaded. They gathered slowly before the building. The empty corpse of a Lothric Knight seated on the entrance of a noble's estate. This establishment directly neighbored the milicia headquarters, but was fully accessible from the ground. The wooden doorway protected by the armor was in decent shape, hinting at the sanctity of the interior. Whoever or whatver lied in there had been completely silent so far.

"Ya said it came in here." asked Carra. A statement old Gyron rectified immediately. " _She_ entered, and _she_ did not step out." The young Bloomseer still seemed skeptical."Yer sure it was a real person? Coulda been a Hollow." "Real person? It was a human with skin and heart. A young girl in a sad shape perhaps, but a thinking being nonetheless." assured the cleric. "She looked scared, I hope she's alright..." Regrettably, Carra was just as manic as the assassin when it came to argumenting over pointless things. She predictably shrugged and placed her last word in: "Aight, well we'll see about that aye? What are ya waitin' for?".

Osadin volunteered, the red cloth on his shoulder flowing with his movements. He confidently approached the door and knocked on its wood. "Excuse me?" he called. The sound of footsteps echoed from the inside, hurried and in short bursts. However, there was no vocal response. The easterling rubbed his short beard. "Odd... What is she doing?" Seconds later, Alrof came next to him. He banged his stuffy gauntlet on the door with a good rhythm and asked stongly but nicely: "Oh girl? The bad guys are gone, you can come out now." Silence was the answer. Alrof knocked again: "Everything alright in there? Hello?" to no avail. Perhaps the violence of battle had scared her from answering. However, leaving this opportunity behind wasn't gonna happen.

The Wise Gyron tried to analyze the situation. "When we saw her she had trouble escaping from a simple Hollow soldier. Thus, she is probably Undead, and could have lived in her childish state for dozens of lifetimes. Who knows what she must be thinking? Perhaps she is being cautious. Perhaps she is amused. She may also have escaped through another exit. There are dozens of possibilities." "Yeah like her bein' a Hollow an' she can't talk..." put Carra bluntly. Things had gone too slowly for her taste, as usual. She prepared a fireball in her left hand. "This ain't no hedder steel door. Imma burn it. Outta mah way!" Alrof and Osadin hurried away. Carra took a stance.

"Don't burn the door!" screamed a young girl, which forced Carra to stop her motion. "Please walk away! Do walk away! There's nothing here but dust and wood yes! No souls for you!"

Carra lifted an eyebrow, clicked her tongue and closed her hand. Her flames was as extinguished as her. "Real person, sod it...". The disappointment on her face pleased the sadist crawling in Kieran's soul. He gloated: "Awww don't give up so easily. Some Hollows can be full of life eh?" Again his red eye shifted towards another Unkindled, the young Volke this time. The little thief stayed silent but didn't avert his eyes from him.

Satisfied, our rude assassin slithered to the door and smacked it strongly: "Enough games girl! I enjoy a little resistance, but if you don't open the door I'm going for your limbs!". Not a logical choice of words, and a very violent act. "Kieran!" shouted a horrified Amon too late to change a thing. No-one was surprised when the hidden girl squealed: "No no no no! I-I don't want no! G-g-go away!" The girl was obviously crying now as her wails had intensified. The pure-hearted Aveny pushed Kieran aside immediately, she would not let a poor soul suffer such heartlessness: "Oh no... My child, please! Ignore this evil man. We are friendly I swear." she pleaded in a sweet tone. But the damage was done. "Leave and don't take my soul! _Whimper._ Leave the door and go away! Away..."

Gyron scolded the scary whipper-snapper with a wrinkled finger pointing at his scarred face. "Boy, you are beginning to annoy me. Threatening a girl you can't even see?" Kieran rolled his eyes, but clicked his tongue in self-disapproval. Maybe even he could admit it had been poor play on his part: _"Tch..._ Alright I'm sorry. Old habits die hard. I swear it won't happen again." "It better be the case, this was reckless and out of order." said Aroth. While the Arklaw had played along with the wordplays and mockery, this proud knight would not laugh along this time. Under the accusing eye of his peers, Kieran retreated at Volke's side without complaints.

Meanwhile, the girl had calmed down a little. Perhaps hearing a feminine voice had been effective. "M-miss?" she called. "Yes child?" answered the Sun-lover, eager to assist. The young voice continued: "Y-you won't break the door yes? Be nice like?" Good, they could now discuss, and Aveny gladly reassured her: "I swear on the Sunlight that shines in my heart, we mean you no harm." After a pause, the brittle soul asked the kind lady."Miss Sunlight... Are you Ash?" Aveny turned away to have confirmation. According to the nod from the leader Aroth and the Wise Gyron, it seemed okay to reveal that fact about them. "Yes young one, I am Unkindled. We are Ash." The girl spoke stronger, she had found a bit of courage after that revelation: "Then... Is... Is my Lord here?". The term seemed important. "Your... Lord?" repeated the cleric. And the answer was: "Our savior, Lord Amon."

As soon as the name left her lips, nine pairs of eyes connected towards the man in question. Amon the Exile felt their pressure and cowered a little, scratching his cheek and looking to the side. "Ah... Well I... This is uncomfortable."

Aroth stepped in angrily and pushed his brother's pale chest against a wall: "What is this madness!?" he growled. " How could someone wait for you in this final age! And she names you a savior? A Lord!?". Not struggling against this violence, Amon gave a disoriented reply _"Urk_ , I do not remember Brother! Mine thoughts were... I swear to you, this fateful encounter surprises me fiercely! I knew her voice felt somewhat familiar but few else. Please believe me!" Rage engulfed the ancient chevalier, he could barely contain his voice: "Lies! You have plotted this course in some way!". He then pulled his right arm back to prepare for a pummeling, but a Swift hand on his shoulder prevented further actions. "Ser Aroth, please, this is no way to behave." advised blade-master Osadin.

Reminded of the situation, Aroth looked at the rest of the group. His fit of anger had surprised them, but they might suspect his reasons nonetheless. He sighed inside his iron helm and reluctantly removed his left hand. The Steadfast Pavel found himself pondering: "What is it to be then? Do we allow them to converse? Should we hold a vote?" It was a good way to decide, let the majority speak, since the majority was not cursed with evil thoughts. The knight's stance was obvious. "I reject this interaction deeply. We can not take Amon's evil and schemes too lightly."

BUt to his surprise, Aveny was more open to the exchancge: "And I want to help this poor soul. We were called to help everyone in need, everyone under the Sun.". This humanitarian view affected all present, despite the redundant solar theme in Aveny's every prayer. For instance, Carra approved of her ideal: "Aye, who cares about complot or whatnot? There's a lil' girl in danger here." The rest of the group encouraged the assistance as well, if not by vertue at least for curiosity's sake. In the end, eight voices were in favor of seeing what Amon could do to help. No objection could be made now so Aroth removed his plea.

Without a word, the half-naked noble had made his way to the door. A raised finger carried his intent to his comrades; to please be quiet. He placed his ear against the door. He could hear the girl crying and muttering words without pause. "Screaming... They screamed... Why..? I want my Lord... I want Ash..." "Young lady?" he said gently. All present heard a gasp behind the door: "Ah... Yes?". Amon seemed pensive, as if trying to recollect something. Or perhaps it was an act as his brother would suspect. "May I inquire your name?" he asked nonetheless. Hesitantly, she replied. "I am... I am... You are?". "My name is Amon. But before you reach a conclusion, just know that my mem..."

The door opened before he could finish his formal address. The girl behind was panting heavily. When her deep blue iris met the pale eyes of the Noble Exile, the desperate expression turned to unbrindled joy. Before anyone could react, she hugged the visitor tightly. "Lord Amon!" she squeaked. "You're back! You're back!"

The girl now in plain sight, the ten warriors could see how this survivor was in her teenaged years. She was a frail young girl, and she was in a sorry state, as observed previously. Her figure was almost as thin as a Hollow's. Cuts and bruises littered her dirtied skin. The clothing she wore couldn't even be considered vestment anymore. The robe and shoes she seemed to posess in the past had almost disappeared, with mere threads remaining. Even the sleeves of her undertop had been completely scratched away from overuse. Her head was adorned with brown hair half-drenched in soot, a good portion of it was unkempt while the rest was braided into a long tail over her shoulder. It had been a while since she tended to her appearance, but she didn't seem to care anymore. She let herself slide at Amon's feet, crying a torrent of tears she had no way of stopping.

Thissubsister's wails put most of the audience at bay out of respect. But noble Aroth couldn't help but increase his suspicious and trust this to be an play of some sort. "Enough of this, girl. On your feet." he ordered. When she saw the fully plated knight advancing towards her, the little survivor jolted. "Eeek!" Impressed, she cowered behind Amon's legs like her life depended on it, grabbing the chains of his leggins with her thin and dirtied fingers. Amon was touched by this display, and opposed this aggressive approach: "Brother, be kind for once. We don't know what she has been through yet." This was not good enough reason in Aroth's eyes: "Tell her to cease this childish act and make her stand then. We have dire questions that need answering." he raised his hand to catch the little girl who closed her eyes in hope of protection. Amon didn't dare interfere on her behalf.

"Sod off! Yer scaring her!" growled Carra who placed herself between the two Carimites. Seeing the survivor in person had made her very protective for some reason, and Aroth was surprised by the change of stance: "You would defend her now? Be forewarned, I will not tolerate another low blow from you.". "Then don't give her a good reason Commander." said a relaxed Alrof. His large build mixed with a straight face, contrary to usual, had quite the effect on the two Ancient Undead. "Come on, take it easy, what's she gonna do? Kill us?" he insisted.

While the point made was good, the Arklaw's resolve was unshaken. He stepped back physically but not verbally: "For the good of this group we need to on the side of caution. If there to be a sign of malevolence against us, I will not stay my hand again." This menace loomed over the little creature now, and the fear forced her whimpers to lessen. Again blue-robed Aveny was the voice of reason: "Then please my companions, give those two some space." They all allowed the beautiful Exile to comfort the girl. He pushed her aside delicately, she was trembling. He squatted to put his head at her level. "I remember, glimpses of fearful eyes, and the sounds of laughter as the bolts flew into the night. You were the Undead girl captured and released in the Copse, were you not?"

As if these events were flooding back in her eyes, the girl searched in front of her without focus. It had happened so long ago, and the rising Curse had blurred the images, but she remembered. She remembered even though she wished to forget the horrible memories that had accompanied her to this day. "Yes, long ago I was running hard like. ALways affraid and not happy. But then you came and..." finally she dared raise her face and look at her saviour correctly. Correctly enough to notice a detail she missed. "Awawawa! My Lord!" she exclaimed, quickly hiding her eyes in her arms. The group was surprised by the outburst, though Amon remained calm and appeased them with his open hands. "What is it child?" he worried. To which she stuttered: "Y-y-y-yo... Chest!"

Of course, seeing the man of her dreams coming to the rescue with his exposed skin would impress her juvenile mind. Not a malevolence, but a sign of simple shyness. Immediately Amon put his chain armor back on. There was a sigh of disappointment behind him but he paid it no heed. "My apologies child... Twas rude of me not to acknowledge my debauchery." Once more the girl raised her head and kept her body straight. All could focus on the girl in her entirety. They reviewed her dark brown eyes and what remained of her clothes, on what lay behind the dust and the wounds. Her demeanor just now had been the perfect reminder for Amon's wonderings: "Could it be? Leliana?"

The girl bobbed her head in approbation for hearing her name had restored her. "Yes yes! Yes my Lord! Leliana of Melfia, yes! It's been so long long. B-but you didn't forget yes? You remember little Leliana really?" The gentleman calmly brushed the dirt off her clothes. "I never forget a face my dear. But I suppose this claim does not encompass memory alterations. It matters not... Are we welcome inside? Stone is no comfortable support to converse on." The small host observed the rest of the group. The colorful bunch had quite the effect on her, but she pressed her frail legs into motion nonetheless. "Good good... Come inside quick before the Hollows return and feel us please?."

While Aroth naturally kept his sword under his fingers, all the Unkindled agreed to follow her into the housing. The entry was spacious, extending forward for a few paces like an oversized hallway. This place had obviously been the home of wealthy nobles in the past. The colors of gold and silver could still be appraised, detailed tapisseries and beautiful earthenware embellished the place. However, a state of disrepair had drastically diminishedits appeal. Dust had formed thick layers over the furniture and old spider threads covered the corners. The stone walls were decayed and shed their rocky shells at the bottom. Many of the candles had melted, forming stalagmites under their props. All in all, the estate would appear abandonned if not for the girl's traces. drenched in dried blood had been laid over a sofa, little scupltures made of pebles and dead skin had been aligned on a small table near a barricaded window. The place smelled of rotten wood and dried blood that steamed from some of the smashed cabinets. Aroth of Astora clicked his tongue "This place reeks of baseness."

Osadin disapproved: "Ser? You're being awfully impolite. This girl gives us temporary shelter and you act like she insulted your honor?". After a few seconds of consideration came an appology: "Yes, tis not fit for my station to denigrate her... generosity." Whatever the case, the group took place on whatever furniture they could find. dining chairs, small crates, capped vases... Leliana sat on a long couch with gilded gold at the ends, it was in as sorry a state as her. The group waited in peace, despite the absence of bonfire. The upper levels had been obstructed by devris, which meant the only threat came from the entrance they had just closed.

Although the pyromancer hadn't found a decent seat yet, Amon could now focus on his friend from another time: "Leliana, what happened to you?" he inquired. Her own ash-riddled hands hugged her thin frame while her mind searched for the the words. "I... I was scared. It's been so long... I-I thought... I-I-I didn't want to hide and wait anymore. We heard the bells so so so many times... Nobody came. People died and the Hollows were here and I was alone and... And here you... You're here... And I...", she started hyperventilating but a pale hand on her shoulder calmed her down.

"Calm down, you're safe now.". The girl believed him, or perhaps she obeyed him: "What happened is I lived my Lord. Very lucky but I did yes. Not easy but can be when you don't die. I die when killed but not of age or food or normal life things, so I can move and run and learn to avoid the mad dead. That's about it yes..." It was then that Carra took a big mattress from a disassembled couch and threw it closer. Just like that she sat herself on it in a meditating pose, but her face was well in the moment. She addressed the girl like you address a friend in need: "Aight pumpkin, ya got some blendin' done on ya, ah'm sorry 'bout it. So... What was that Amon said about ya bein' hunted? Who did what an' where?". Apprehension kept a clear answer from exiting Leliana's lips: "Long long ago it was no? My Lord can tell you please?". Amon obliged her: "If my returning memories are to be trusted, it was..." he shrugged. "Who can say?" The fire-wielder didn't like that answer and neither did her surging Pyromancy Flame. "Haa!?" she snarled.

Our newfound hero tried to explain himself before his tatooed face received a different type of marking: "Please, put that away. My meaning was thus; there are too many culprits to begin with. Hunting Undead became something of a sport in many realms over the ages. A horrible and arrogant business with no sway against the Curse, as you can imagine. The sport of mad Kings and Nobilities seeking pleasure in the end of days. I shall not share the grim details here... Let it be known that I saved one victim. One among many I did not...".

This history lesson was a shock for many among the group, Alrof of Forossa was notably blown away: "By my beard, those stories about Undead Hunt... all true." The fallen Lord aquiesced, then addressed Carra: "I suspect the ones who trespassed the Great Swamp had a similar goal when they stole your young wards." Our blazing gal was rightfully pissed and punched her seating: "Bloody shit-faced rotten bastards bloody sold mah kids... Fer sum bloody funsies... Ah knew those godly tars shunk a way on 'em, but that'd better not be it..." her spiteful rant gave way to a lenghty sigh. Away from them she might have accepted that she seeing the younglings again was unlikely. Not her captors though, them she could punish still. Osadin waltzed in: "Just to be sure Carra. You do understand that Ser Pavel was blameless in this business?" Rolling her eyes at first, she perused the herald from feet to head before concluding: "...That's fer sure. He's too namby-pamby like ta do any of it aye." "Namby-pamby?" He had no idea what the expression meant but it felt better than Carra's previous insults. And so Pavel just let things stand.

The discussion had advanced a litlle, but it was time to resolve some mysteries. A Ruthless hitman called for the girl's attention and in a far more peaceful manner than his first attempt. "My dear, you've obviously done well surviving this terrible place. You're Undead like we are, I can sense that. So let me ask you this; what are you doing here? You could find a better place than this... old home... to survive until the Fire's back. At a bonfire for instance?"

"Bonfire? No no I can't use them yet, I need to... I was trying to... to..." Vitality left the girl's face as if she just recalled something, something dire. "I... I didn't..." Her mouth now moved without producing any sound. A short spasm went through her head and she curled up into a ball, sobbing harder than before.

"Leliana?" asked a very worried Amon. This time, even his touch didn't calm her down.

Beyond anyone's expectations, the young girl clenched her muscles erraticaly, like thunder had oursed through her. "Stupid Leliana... Stupid girl..." she accused herself. Her shivering intensified and her eyes lost their colors. Her nails dig into her amber-tinted skin. "You stupid useless girl!" She cursed herself more with each grasp, and sunking harder and harder. "You FAILED!" She started ripping her skin off by full bloody straps. It was a horrible sight.

"Gwyn preserve us! Stop her!" begged Pavel. Immediately, those nearest caught her arms, which made the girl convulse and scream like something had possessed her. Carra joined his effort and tried to keep her legs still. "EEYARGH!" Her shrieks of sadness and pain filled their ears. Something, a deep feeling of guilt and despair had poisoned her mind. Noone knew what do do. Thankfully, the crazed fit passed as Leliana's strength failed her. She stopped all activity and her limbs lost their tension.

Her numb body was balancing in the hands of her helpers who placed her back on the couch. Aveny did not hesitate to pull out her chime and summon her miracles. While this healing proceeded, Amon placed his palm against the girls face. She was bitting her lips and was stuck in her past, away from the group's reach. He couldn't believe what had happened. "Gods, what could have produced such despair?" Aroth of Carim derided his adopted brother: "What does it matter? Tis a madwoman you have aligned us with. Good ridance. Let us depart from this wretched place and resume our journey."

"How DARE you!" Accused a furious herald. "You want us to leave her to her fate? In such a state? You awful villain!" Pavel opposition was mirrored by booing and angry remarks from the other Unkindled. Despite the horrid event, they had taken cause with the survivor. The fact that Aroth couldn't factor this amused a sadistic killer: "Honestly your Lordship, I can't believe could be so cruel and unfair. And you were appointed judicator of Carim like this?" The proud leader definitely did not expect such a rebuttal. The shame made him sweat inside his armor, he had to defend his case: "You misunderstand the point. Please, we must be pragmatic in our approach."

For once, Alrof disaggreed with the Commander's statement: "Pragmatically, the girl's hurt, the girl's alone, and she needs us, man. End of story." Yet the Arklaw just would not quit: "After everything you have seen and heard, how can you decide such a thing so quickly?" Amon interrupted him: "Brother, can we wait until the girl is wholly saved before we indulge your paranoid drivel?" Hearing his brother's unappaled voice was one more drop in a chalice of spite. "Silence Kinslayer! This is all..." Here and then, the looks on nine faces made him realise he was fighting a losing battle, and was only worsening his position. Aroth knew he had to retreat. "...Fine then."

And so a majority had refused once again to act against the young survivor. Still, in the minority's eyes, this situation was ridiculous. _Has my brother won that much influence over them? Do they not remember the crimes I charged him with? They have just met this mad girl, what is driving them so?_ He couldn't understand, wouldn't understand. Now he had to play along and observe.

Thus the girl was pin a comfortable position top of the long couch, her make-shift bed most-likely for Undead. Volke stood very closely Aveny was finishing praying for her and wiping the blood away from her forehead. With tenderness never witnessed before, Amon carefully placed the girl's head on her side. He brought his gold Estus Flask to her mouth and slowly tilted it. Half-dazed, the poor survivor let the mystical fluid flow into her. The wound on her head healed in seconds, but not her spirit's. "Sorry... I'm so sorry..." she repeated with tears in her eyes. Amon left her in Aveny's care. "Rest and recover for now." he advised the weeping child.

The event had shaken the group in many ways. If they couldn't save one soul, how could they save the world? Some among them felt a weight added on their shoulders while others tried to converse and make sense of the situation. It took them a while, but the absence of danger outside left them alone in their ponderings. Volke was, as usual, exploring the grounds. His search came up void and he took a seat below the girl to observe her recovery. Osadin, Pavel and Carra formed a group. Gyron and Alrof elected to watch the exit for eventual Hollows, and perhaps to banter a bit more.

Young Volke had finished exploring the mansion. His search came up empty handed apparently, unsurprisinging considering the upper levels were unaccessible and that the Leliana had sejourned here for an eternity. As such, he joined the girl's side without saying any word. He stayed at the edge of her feet and observed her like a shy cat observes a candle's light, afraid to place its paw on it. If one could paint a picture of the scene now, and earn quite a profit from the subjective assets the situation provided. A brooding knight in the back, unable to bear hostilities. An injured girl surrounded by a noble, a thief and a priest. A known killer observing his friends with a grim smirk. A warrior in his prime conversing with an aged wizard, both standing by an open door. A straight-faced man and an excitable woman exchanging concepts without tearing each-other apart. Quite the picture indeed.

At last the forlorn girl had recovered enough to thank her helper: "Thanks miss Sunlight..." The bald girl smiled and caressed her patient's forehead: "Just praise the Sun the next time you stand outside, and let its rays invigorate you." A peculiar prescription to a sulking girl hidding among the rubbles, certainly. Politeness called for her to nod anyway: "Er... I will..?" She now addressed her hero. "I'm very very sorry my Lord. Haven't spoken to anyone in ages yes. And when I think about what I... I... I tried to hold it in..." A raised hand invited her to remain still: "Tis alright. You shall talk about it when you feel the inclined to." She trembled again, and felt the need to scratch away returning: "Yes, please, later..."

A grave secret laid inside her young The two sentinels were called back so that everyone might hear what she had to say. The talk began with Gyron. As a teacher, he was used to talking with young people, and chose a soothing tone of voice. "You've been very brave so far young one, but we have a duty to fulfill. We need information. As such, little Leliana, what can you say the situation here in Lothric?"

Still laid on the couch, Leliana sighed: "Bad, Old mister. Very bad. There's the Curse, it's everywhere. And also the Knights and their war. There was the Three Pillars and the Angels that started fighting it out one day. Reds against blues, everywhere like. The Curse got them too and they kept the war anyway... And uhm... There's some infection on the Wall that screams and crushes everything it sees. Red eyes and black mud, is very bad. But the real problem is the numbers. There's too many dead people around, more than the city should have before.". "What do you mean?" inquired Osadin. She looked away pensively. "How to say... Before the bells, the Curse was simple like. There would be Hollow in one place, but not more than at first. Never change where they are or what they do. It's like recipe that never moves. But one day it was not like before. There were more Hollow here, and less there. They come back in place when killed also, but... I don't know how to explain good like." there was chatter among the group, but they were shushed by a combined motherly growl from Aveny and Carra. Leliana continued. "I mean... In normal they walk around in repeat from before they turned. Guards walk for duty, Knights fight Knights, the praying ones keep praying, yes? And when they see the new like Leliana or friends or the Ash like you, they attack and attack always. But sometimes they don't move even if they see or smell or listen... Not just because of memory before the turn I mean. It's all unnatural, and I mean more than unnatural should be. Ahah! But there is good! Good thing is I can move more calm now. Some Knights are more slow, and I can kick kick the little ones and I go here. But no matter what changed, everyone was dying more and more."

Everything was consistent with what the party had encountered before. The ambush when they first arrived atop the High Wall... Hollows attracted by sound sometimes and sometimes not... The Lothric Knight's strength being different from with Kieran's memories was yet another such mystery. This confirmation intrigued Gyron to great length. "What happen after."

The girl pursued her report: "I don't what started what or when now... The city is high in the sky now. There were some old hump-people that came and came and died. People think it as a sign to go away fast. City in the air or no, it was too dangerous to stay yes? But then a big monster appeared. Vordt. Vordt killed everyone who tried to escape. All my friends are dead now... Everyone's scared now... Nobody leaves the buildings... Or maybe they all leaved and died... Or they died and didn't leave... I... I didn't meet anyone good sane in a long long time. Not the smith, not the guards, not my friends..." she paused and took a deep breath, she was done. Her words were considered for a moment of silence.

"Phew... I know the feeling. The Undead are good at sucking the life out of cities. By the way, what is a Vordt?" asked Alrof who smelled a challenge. She answered with difficulties: "A dog man, made of metal. He can freeze and crush everything." Osadin twirled his moustache. "My brother spoke about that particular mongrel, remember? What was its namesake again...". "The dog of the Boreal valley. Something of the like." supposed Aroth from the corner of the room. "Another thing in our way. But the path to the Castle should be clear then, no?" presumed Pavel. Leliana shook her little head. "Not anymore no... There's a group of Castle Knights that guards the church. Too many many. They're slow and don't move if you don't try to go in the church, but they kill very much if you go, yes." The lean paladin Pavel sighed: "Does that mean we have to get stronger first? Linking the Fist Flame is getting more harduous with every spent second."

The little girl realised something: "Er... Are you Unkindled like Miss Sunlight and my Lord?". Pavel placed a hand to his heart. "Indeed we are." She counted the members: "All ten?" A common nod answered the question. "Ah.. Ahaha... So many of you. This is not natural too, not natural. But you ARE Ash and you have my Lord... That means... That means lots of hope and everything will be alright, yes?". This was an hopeful statement from a girl who just harmed herself su muh, but it had an efftect. "Well people seem to think so." chuckled Kieran who was perusing some weapons nailed above the chimney. They stood unavailable due to the Undead Curse making them intangible to his fingers. A pity. "The failures who turned to dust are the universe's best chance of survival, isn't it poetic?" he finished.

Gyron asked a question in turn: "Yes this is a critical part. Leliana, what do you know of those who succeeded. What of the Lords of Cinders, child?" "The Lords. The bells toll for the first time to wake them, then again for the Ashes who come for cinder. Is what they say. But they did not come in the city I think no. Really I don't know much. Ah but good Leliana knows that the Good Princes are in the Castle for sure. The Princes stay here for reasons my friends didn't like no. And there was the Blue and Red war because strong people didn't like it too. The war of little wings Knights and normal Knights like you see outside is because the Princes... Erm... they don't want to burn I think."

A grave detail, the Princes of Lothric had refused to serve the Fire, while other unwilling Lords of Cinder did not even pass through the city. It would take time and effort to find them, surely. But the Royals who seemed to be the closest available target. The way of the Unkindled ones was getting more intricate, but at least they had some light to guide them now. Amon stood up: "I thank you for your time Leliana. How can we repay you now?"

Her eyes brightened up and she pushed herself up with great effort. "Let me serve you again, please! Oh! You are Ash, send me to your Shrine with a poof yes? I have things to sell and ideas to give." Nobody present knew exactly what she meant by _poof._ The girl was happy to explain: "You don't remember? If we swear to serve Ash, we can join the safe place. It's what my friends said before I stop seeing them. I touch your hand, say a good speech and I transport away just like that. Disappear here and appear there, poof!"

A direct means of transportation using only spoken words? Kieran was most intrigued by this novel abitlity: "Unkindled can do everything can't they? What else is there? Can we control dust and talk to dead trees or something?" Leliana still did not like his voice or his eye: "I... I don't know, maybe? You're scary." The manslayer bowed nobily: "Thank you. You are terrifying as well my beautiful pile of secrets." Aroth tired of this frivolous talk: "Must I conclude you will all welcome her to the sacred grounds of Firelink Shrine?" Kieran shrugged. "Why not? The place could use a little touch of youth. As I said, she's a scary little girl, but it's alright to be afraid of her powers, Ô proud defender of the realm that you are." Aroth of Carim muttered something untowards, and looked away. He knew he couldn't affect the outcome anymore. Amon seized this opportunity to seal the pact: "So shall it be. Enonce your oath, innocent one. In Firelink Shrine your safety shall be guaranteed."

The girl took a deep breath. Wide-eyed, she gazed into her savior's face: "Touch my hand please..." Amon executed the request earnestly. The girl smiled: "I, Leliana of Melfia, do solemnly swear allegiance to Lord Amon and his friends. I'll serve you all and help make it all natural again yes?" With those final words, a gust of hot wind swirled from her shadow. The girl vanished completely. The effect was similar to using certain items that returned their users to a bonfire or a place of rest. As such, noone was alarmed by what had happened. "... I like her... She is warm..." announced Volke who had not uttered a word in ages.

"Hey lad! Been a while, how you doing? Haven't heard you in forever." quiped the axeman, glad to hear the Withdrawn boy for once. "Wait a minute, warm?" something had tickled the warrior's mind. "AH! I remember now, Melfia is that country with that Magic Academy or whatnot! Yeah that's the o... Oops..." What came next was predictable. "YOU COULDN'T MENTION THIS BEFORE!?" reprimanded the old seeker of sorcery with impossible anger. It wasn't two seconds before his arms were tightly bound on Alrof's furry coat-of-arms. "Soooorry!" begged the bruiser. Yet contrary to last time, thankfulky, the old man released his deathly grip on his own. Decisively he flipped his sorcerer robe around and began walking towards the exit. "I am going back to her." he grumbled, and before anyone opposed his decision, he explained: "I will NOT throw arrows all day like a novice! There will be no step further until I have learned what she has to offer."

Amon tried to bargain with him: "Leliana IS a student. Adept in pyromancies and sorceries, true, but a student nonetheless. Do not come at her aggressively, I beg of you." Reason carved its way through this starving beast of a magus. _"Hnng..._ But she HAS spells, doesn't she? I will treat her with deference and restraint then...". Carra placed herself in his path. A blue and messy eyebrow raised itself above the aged eyes. "What are you doing? I swear I shall not harm her.". scratched her head: "Aight... You are scary when ya wanna aye. An' yer smart enough ta not kick her about aye. The thing is... If mah sense of orientation ain't rusted up, there's an elevator up thataway. It'll take ya back ta da first bonfire. Howsabout ya comin' with me eh?"

This was no lie. Plus Carra had definitely showed interest in protecting the girl. The tragedy they both had gone through would uinsure the newcomer's protection. Gyron definitely saw the value of a shortcut as well. "Lead the way please." he agreed. Aroth pushed the idea forward with a little twist. "You should accompany her, all of you. Amon and I have much to talk about, privately." Was stubbornness a value shared by every single Unkindled? That would make sense actually. "You don't know how to give up, do you?" commented the easterling. He knew much about brotherly rivalry himself. Surprisingly, the rejected Lord of Carim motionned the idea forward: "Don't worry about it. Run along friends, and let me free my sibling of any doubts." His grey eyes shinned with confidence as he said this.

In the end, eight people exited the estate one by one. The last of them, the somber Kieran, had smelled trouble and took his time walking away from it. Aroth's silent stare forced him to join the departing group. "Try not to kill yourselves too much! Fuhahaha!" he cackled. Finally, the two ancient warriors were left alone in the estate. Aroth removed his iron helm and made it enter his inner realm. Now his mien was clear, its anger obvious. and the straight scar under his eye was strangely bleeding. Confrontation was now inevitable: "Nice spectacle, _Lord Amon_." scoffed the knight. This word wasn't to the taste of our pale warrior. "A spectacle, was it?"

"What esle could it be?" insisted Aroth. "A servant of such... devotion to you has joined our cause. But her presence in this city was no coincidence. You forced her onto this path so that she may encounter us." Amon took it as a jest :"Again with this? Are you quite serious? She survived on her own for..." presenting the quantity of dust around them. "...Ages, no doubt longer. Yet she is a child still, and her mind has struggled to retain sanity. Can you not understand how she must feel at present? Can you not see the tenacity of her spirit?" Aroth paced around his prey, trying to clear his anger with great difficulty: "Oh I'm certain you understand her perfectly. A debt can lead to many things, things even a pure soul might come to regret, horrible acts with dire consequences."

"You think I planned for this to happen? That she may be an agent of chaos and murder? Intriguing. How and why would I even do such a thing? Don't be ridiculous. A young Undead girl in my debt has offered her services once more. Tis good news and you should applaud my ressourcefulness." insisted the accused. Aroth nodded sardonnically: "Certainly you are ressourceful. And you are also a conniving wretch. A dangerous mixture of skills, one I cannot allow."

Without further warning, Aroth grabbed his brother by the shoulders and pushed him towards a nearby wall. Amon didn't counter this aggression, nor did he didn't resist the metal arm that was starting to press against his throat. " _Urg..._ Do not be so rough on the neck Brother. _Ngh_... One cannot talk without a breath.". But the pressure only intensified. "How?" questionned the angered warrior. "How can you behave like you do? Knowing what you know, after doing what you did? How do you walk with so high a spirit I wonder. Oh, of course... There must be a plot stirring in the back of this twisted mind of yours. Tis obvious. A way to take revenge for the Justice I applied to you?"

" _Cough_... Father always said I was quite keen." With his free hand, the knight slapped his brother's cheek. There was nothing noble in this act. Blood stained the fingers of the gauntlet and Aroth snarled: "Do not speak of him! Do not taint his name with your mouth. You may have his blood, but only WE shared his vision." The injured party liked the inside of his mouth and spit it on the floor. _"_ And the madness that came with it." he rebuked.

A second backhand flew against the pale cheek, the blood landed on Aroth's face this time. Despite a certain liberty of movement, for his legs and arms were free, the Lawless Unkindled did not resist this mistreatment. "That glib of yours..." continued the tortionner. "The subtext of which eroding the walls of my patience. Provocation, at every turn. You dance your way around the others as if you were the victim..." he now used his hand to strangle Amon directly. He started suffocating. Tapping out offered no release, only further declaration of intent by his warden: "I will admit this much; I believed you for a short time. I believed that you had changed your heart and were ready to accomplish our work. But I know better! Now tell me, what be your plans? You and that urchin of yours?"

A few fingers unclenched theselves to permit a response: " _Cough cough..._ You don't have to rely on pointless torture. Liliana... She is endebted to me, I sheltered her from harm. That is all. ". Not enough, not good nor precise enough for the prosecutor. "What more? Reveal her purpose!". No change in Amon's glare could tell what he was hiding, only a hint of embarassment. "I... Do not remember..." he gasped out. And of course the rage in Aroth's heart grew in size. "How convenient would that not be?"

eyes were red from the pressure, his bleached face turning violet with each moment but he managed to gasp out more words: "You do realise... That I cannot... tell lies?"

Aroth punched the murderer's exposed guts, in a soft spot that made the receiving party curl immediately. Now on the ground, Amon pained to regain his breath. But Aroth was not finished. He kicked the face square, and the man ended up on his back. AMon walked towards him like an executionner headed for the stand: "If you do not reveal the truth, I swear on the name of Father that I will shatter her until her hollowed form weeps in a dark corner for all eternity. No matter how much it costs me, no matter how much it blackens my soul, I will NOT fail in my task again."

Frightened by the prospect of losing his old friend, there was another plea made: "I do not remember... If I did, I would tell you. You know this, please don't harm her...". But Aroth's mind was riding upon this wave of suspicions and sheer anger. The patricide had no way to stop him now. HIs brother's neck was a perfect fit for an iron boot. "A weak pitiful man like you, rejecting EVERTHING your house built. Have you no regret? The Power, the Glory, the Duty!" He scoffed. "Bah! Arstor was right, we should have impaled you atop the manor, allowing the carrions to feed off your sins for the rest of eternity! Ah... But I foolishly offered to exile the son of my benefactor. A deficiency on my part... The new Earl of Carim, our brother, was wiser that day. He knew you would stand against us again." He pressed his feet harder. "A situation that I should rectify, posthaste."

The end approached. Eyeballs were rolling for the back of the head, foam exited the side of the mouth. But still Amon suffured through without resisting and without admission of guilt. All for naught, or so it would appear. At long last Aroth sighed and released his hold. The blood was allowed to flow back into the loser's head and awakened his senses. Amon turned his body to the side, coughing and wheezing from the ordeal. He inhaled as much air as possible, like a diver returning from the depth of the sea. The last drops of his Estus Flask would calm his dying throat. Little by little the marks of the torture dissipated. Aroth, meanwhile, simply observed. Back on his feet at last, Amon defied his better with a lengthy glance. With gritted teeth, he brushed the blood on his mouth and dueled at the prideful blue eyes. There was rage boiling within Amon for this mistreatment, but his actions remained deprived of aggression: "You beast..." he cursed. "Spilling my blood again, monologuing all the while... Are you pleased? Or have you finally realised your display was pointless?"

"Quite." admitted the knight with disgust. "You are Undead, a state I share. Killing you would solve nothing and produce questions among our comrades. Even if it lead to your insanity, which I doubt, there could still be a contigency I do not know about. After all, I have no way of making you admit information I cannot know is true. What more... Your lapses in memories are an issue I suffer as well."

Amon and Aroth, prisonners of circumstances, unable to die and unable to reach the truth. "Heh... And the only way we know can remedy our condition, as far as we know..." started the first. "...Is for us to absorb souls." finished the second. Now completely clean, Amon used his hands to compare their standings: "I shall never know your history, and learn my secrets you cannot, _Cough..._ if you suppose I do possess some... But I think this duel goes to me."

The justiciar punched the craggy stone walls with force. This situation was unbearable. _Did Amon plot everything thus far? Did he engineer this state of forgetfulness? How far can he have prepared? Are there conspirators amongst the Ten? Curse his mind, and curse this weakness in my being..._ There was no way to tell the real from the conspiracy anymore. Now, the Arklaw would simply have to endure whatever came next, and hope his own memories might shed light on the situation. Amon stood back on his feet, his injuries healed and his moral restored like nothing had occured at all. "Can't you see? Fate, in its great irony, bade me to your side in order to save this dying world. Like it or not, I shan't leave your side nor hide from it until the deed is done. And if either of us have hidden plans, there is nothing any of us can do to oppose them."

It repeated the obvious, but Aroth could only play along now: "Aye, twould seem so. But know this Hated One, no matter what trickery you have planned, I shall be ever victorious. So will it be." "Oh, yes. Gutsy declaration. Bully for you." Standing on the porch, the nemesis called out. "Come on then. Time to rejoin the fold and kept the fires of our rivalry alit, _Dear Brother_." Aroth coldly crossed his arms as he considered his sibling in silence. Murderer, Kinslayer, Traitor, Monster , Lawless, and Slaughterer were the titles his brother had earned. Those were titles that he, as Arklaw of Carim, had imprinted upon his brother's face. But for now, he could only follow him back into the city of Lothric.


End file.
